


Dinner Dates

by paintmysmile



Category: Ed Edd n Eddy
Genre: Child Abuse, Denial, Families of Choice, Family, Foster Care, Gen, M/M, Neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintmysmile/pseuds/paintmysmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddy's mother is curious, father suspicious. Still, Edd can't stop going to their house for dinner - not when nothing and no one is waiting for him at home. CPS just makes things worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the fourteenth day in a row, Eddward found his tired eyes blinking awake of their own volition. The house was silent – as it had always been. Somehow though, it had become even more quiet once his parents had received that fateful call from the NHA. As he predicted, moments later an annoying beeping started by his head, and he reached out awkwardly with the hand not flung across his eyes to bat at the off switch on the side. The house fell silent again.

When he prepared for the first day back after the three-day weekend with his daily shower and teeth-brushing (twice, simply because he didn't trust even the electric ones to dislodge any bacteria that could've crept in during the night), it was in silence. He prepared breakfast (a single slice of lightly-buttered toast and a glass of orange juice) for himself in silence. He knew without having to check the lonely sticky note on the refrigerator door that his parents had left early for their new more-full-time jobs, just as they had been practically every day for the last two weeks.

But that was okay. He was used to taking care of himself.

He was the first one to reach the bus stop that morning. The little street corner edged by Mr. Polman's balding shrubs was just as quiet as the Blake residence, but at least there Edd knew that someone besides him would show up eventually. The last time he had seen anyone at his home was... He shook the thought away, focusing instead on the frost-covered trees like skeleton hands creeping from the ground. Winter had fallen upon Peach Creek fast this year. Or at least, that's what he had overheard Eddy's dad muttering crossly when he realized it was too late in the season to hire someone ('even those fricken foreigner people down by that farm') to staple cheap new shingles over the bargain-brand ones he had put up the year before.

Mr. Sullivan was right though, even if his methods of home improvement were lacking slightly. It seemed like only days ago the children of the cul-de-sac were out gallivanting in the sun. Granted, the only ones who still did anything close to playing anymore were Sarah and Jimmy, but they had always been a bit behind in development. It could be by the help of spray-tanner, but Nazz's tan hadn't faded and he hadn't seen Kevin wearing his winter jacket yet, despite the freezing temperatures.

He heard the crunching of footsteps through the quickly-frozen leaves long before he saw anything more distinguishing than the little puffs of fog pouring out with each of his own exhales. Soon enough his tall friend came meandering around the corner and into view, loaded up with enough fluffy layers to do a snowman shame.

"Double-D!" he shouted gleefully through the thick chartruese scarf, running forward to engulf his friend in a back-breaking hug. "We haven't seen you all weekend! I thought you were eaten by the lava monsters from mars, but Eddy said you were reading sticky notes so I didn't wanna bother you. You weren't eaten, were you?"

"No, Ed," the shorter teen laughed, gently manuevering out from under the massive paws still gripping his shoulders in concern. "My parents came home this weekend, so I thought I'd make them a nice dinner. Nothing to be worried about, promise." He left out the part where they hadn't made it through the door until nearly midnight, practically falling into bed before leaving again almost before he woke up the next morning. Ed wouldn't understand. They just... needed some time to get used to their new schedules. They'd be back to family dinners again in no time, he was sure of it.

Ed just grinned widely, thumping Edd painfully hard on the back. "Promises are like cherry trees, Double-D."

"Can it, Lumpy," a familiar voice barked from the street behind them. The dark-haired owner of said voice marched up to the two, before plopping down on the edge of the sidewalk. He was up again just as soon, hissing and cursing freezing cement and thin denim. He settled eventually for half-leaning against the metal lamp post near the other two, also cold but more bearable through the thick wool of his jacket. The slight twitching of Ed's fingers along the straps of his backpack caught his attention. "Jesus, Monobrow, when was the last time you took your meds?"

Edd frowned at the overused nickname from their childhood, but said nothing. The book he was taking out of his backpack would be more interesting, and hopefully less painful to deal with. Besides, Eddy wouldn't listen to him anyway.

"When I woke up, Eddy, I swear! Sarah made me or she said she'd tell mom. I just got ungrounded! The gravy, Eddy!"

Eddy scoffed, but ultimately decided that picking on the tallest Ed wasn't what he was really craving at the moment, for he didn't push the issue. Instead he turned to Double-D, who had a thick leatherbound book out on his lap. Eddy moved to sit on the large garden stone next to him, cringing at the cold again invading his jeans, and tried to discern the title from the few letters visible between splayed spidery fingers.

"There aren't any pictures," Edd informed the brunette, leveling him a sharp look over the top of the crisp pages. "I doubt you'd be interested in it."

"I've read plenty of books! And not all of them have had pictures, you know," Eddy argued. He swore roughly when the corner of Double-D's mouth twitched, forsaking the rock to go stand by the tallest teen again. "Whatever, Sockhead. It's probably lame anyway. Velcro-b-o-logy and all."

"I think you're refering to microbiology, Eddy."

"Exactly. Borrring!"

"Actually," Double-D remarked lightly, "it's a detective novel. Sherlock Holmes, to be exact. He was—"

"Blah blah blah," Eddy interrupted. "We don't give a crap about some old dead guy. What we want is pizzaz! Shibang! A little action to tide a dude over between Tarentino flicks, got me?"

"I got you, Eddy," Edd said dryly. Knowing the shortest of the trio, he would see Holmes in a movie or a cartoon, and would be calling himself an expert by the months end. Just like he had forShutter Island, Slumdog Millionaire, and Watchmen, in the last year alone.

But then again, Eddy had always been quick to jump on a new bandwagon. The first time comic book hero films started popping up in commercials and previews at the theater, he was silent. Judging. The second time such an ad came into mention he leapt on the idea, boasting to anyone within earshot that 'the comics were better', or 'they'll probably throw in so-and-so as a twist, the chumps'. Yet, when questioned, he couldnt' give much more than a generalized summary of the original series' and a overly-structured description of a character.

Double-D assumed Wikipedia was to blame.

The thing with Eddy was that he was too vain, too concerned with his social standing in the cul-de-sac and in school. For some reason that had been beyond the intelligent Edd for the last few years, the prospect of popularity appealed to Eddy. He actually seemed to want everyone watching him at all times, doting on his every move. Hanging off his every word.

Well, maybe a little attention occasionally wouldn't be so bad.

When the bus finally came to a screeching stop half over the curb, Eddy shoved his way to the front of the forming line. Sarah, who had shown up with jimmy in tow minutes earlier, appeared livid. Thankfully, the blonde was able to calm the girl enough to do nothing more than angrily push the older teen up the stairs. Eddward hung back by Rolf, who only rode the school bus because of some law forbidding teenagers to drive tractors towards a school building. Or, as a general rule, around town at all.

Edd determindedly ignored the leer from the rather painted bus driver as he weaved around both the broken front door that only opened half-way and the woman's fishnet-clad leg thrown out into the already narrow alleyway. He mumbled an "excuse me," and stepped over it carefully when she ignored him. Really, he shouldn't have been so surprised; the large woman had been increasingly suggestive towards him lately. Maybe she had taken a liking to him when he was the only one to say goodmorning on the first day of school.

Or she could just be a cougar... but Double-D didn't want to ponder what type of woman preyed on fifteen-year old boys.

"Here! Sit here, Double-D! I kept it warm for you."

Edd cringed at Ed's unwashed coat laying across the empty portion of the bus bench. While the ADHD pills helped massively, the tallest boy still had the most deplorable heigine habits of any human Edd had encountered. "Um..." he mumbled, clutching his book between both hands. "Thank you for the consideration, but I think I'll stretch out my legs on this seat... Over here." He tried not to count the pieces of toast lodged in braces when the teen grinned back.

Eddward sat down as the bus began moving. In the seat in front of him, Eddy turned around to hang his folded arms over the thick brown padding.

It was hard, but he managed to appear to be listening while watching his empty home fade from view.

.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"It's a wonder you're only in ninth grade. Mr. Blake," Mrs. Baron said during English, his last class of the day. "You're doing so well... If you'd like, I could talk to Mr. Masteller about transferring you to sophomore English next semester?"

Edd considered the option briefly, before shaking his head no. While it would look good on a college application, he wasn't sure if he could keep a perfect score with the more advanced material, which is what was most important. Besides, transferring would require signatures... "No thank you, Ma'am. I would miss my classmates too much, I'm afraid."

She frowned and fished a narrow purple pamphlet out from underneath a well-read Shakespeare. It felt heavy when she handed it to him. "Friends are great, but you shouldn't let them hold you back. I'm going to give you this in case you change your mind. Your mind's too brilliant to waste, Dear."

He stammered a thanks and slipped the pamphlet into his bag, and apparently his nervousness was obvious because she let him go with a small smile. The smile turned poisonous when she saw two of her worst students hovering by the door.

"Sullivan! Vargas! What have I told you about eavesdropping?"

The two ran off down the hallway in hysterical laughter, Edd panting to catch up with them. "G-Guys... Slow down..."

He managed to tail after them until they were off school grounds, then Eddy whipped around with a snarl. "What was that about, Double-D? You plannin' on leaving us? Think you're too smart to hang with us normal kids anymore?"

"Eddy... that's not true. Mrs. Baron suggested it, yes – and maybe it'd be a smart move for me... But!" He denied before Eddy could retort, "I told her no. I'm not leaving you guys. Ever."

"Yeah, yeah," Eddy muttered, cheeks pinking in embarrassment at getting riled so easily.

Double-D sighed at his friends' antics, bumping elbows with Ed in a playful move to assure him that everything was okay. The returning shove was enough to knock Edd into Eddy, who caught him easily with the year's added height and muscled gained from many failed attempts at making the schools sports teams. When Double-D was set back on his feet, he sighed; he almost missed the days when he wasn't the shortest of the Eds. Even back then he had been known as the weakest, but the two or so inches Eddy had on him insured that the reputation wasn't going anywhere.

"Watch it, Lumpy. You might break him."

Ed immediately looked distraught at the idea of hurting his friend. "I'm sorry, Double-D! I don't want you to break and get sucked up in the vacuum... It's loud and scary in there!"

Edd shot a withering look at the chuckling Eddy, and patted Ed on the arm. "There, there, Ed. No harm done, see?" Ed sniffled, wiping a long line of mucus down his shirt sleeve, but thankfully didn't attempt to hug him.

(Double-D didn't think he owned enough Lysol to ever feel clean again after that.)

The cul-de-sac came into view, and Edd could see the swept and pressed cement of his driveway. He sighed.

"What's eatin' you? I'm not angry about the English thing, you know..."

"Oh," Double-D said, immediately feeling guilty over letting his best friend feel guilty (no matter how deserved). "No, it's just, I had hoped that my parents would be home to enjoy some family bonding-type activity after my chores."

He sighed and turned away from his friends and toward his house, but stopped short when Eddy grabbed his wrist. "Screw 'em. I looted my big bro's room yesterday and found his original Nintendo. I'm gonna cream Lumpy at Donkey Kong, but you might stand a chance at Bomberman."

Double-D twisted his arm out of Eddy's grasp and spun around, lugging his backpack higher over his shoulders. "Thank you, but no thank you, Eddy. I for one strive to be a good and well-behaved child to my parents, and you two would do well to follow my example." A pause – snickers. "Goodbye, Eddy. Ed. At least make an attempt at completing your homework..."

.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"My monkey has more bananas, Eddy!"

The shorter teen hocked the narrow controller at the ground, grumbling irrationally when it bounced harmlessly off his thick shag carpet. Across the black TV screen read GAME OVER, with a picture of two red-clothed monkeys crying in defeat. Beside him, Ed scratched his head and armpits, emitting harsh guffaws he thought was supposed to be monkey noises. Of course the neanderthal would win. Even if he had just mashed all the buttons...

"That was boring. This game is boring. This day is boring!" He flopped onto his back, the bed jiggling under his weight. Ed peered at him from over the side, caterpillar eyebrow wiggling like a sea monster from the deep. Eddy ignored him. "Who does Double-D think he is, anyway? 'I'm such a good son and you're an idiot who can't do algebra.' Well, screw him. At least my parents aren't gone all the time."

"But Eddy," Ed piped up like a puppy craving attention, "maybe Double-D's parents have been eaten by the CornField Monster from Ghoul Weekly!"

More like eaten by their jobs...

"Knock, Knock."

Both boys looked up to the doorway, where Mrs. Sulivan stood with a dinner plate and a smile. Eddy's backpack hung from her elbow – most likely picked up from it's previous location flung by the front door. "Ed, Hunny, your mother just called. She'd like you to head on home now. Dinner time and all." Ed whooped and ran out the door, repeating "gravy gravy gravy" like a mantra, while Eddy's mom just chuckled. Years of dealing with her son's best friends had taught her many lessons in how to guide her own child. She set the plate down on his dresser and sat beside him on the bed, flopping back to face her little boy's frown. "Where was Eddward tonight?" The scowl deepened. "Ah, a fight. I see... Well, what was it this time, then?"

Eddy sat up, building a small thrown of pillows at his headboard. "He's been blowing us off a lot lately. Doing chores, cooking dinner. We argued about it today because he wouldn't even come play Nintendo with us."

"Eddward's a hardworking kid. I think it's great that he's so helpful," she teased, poking Eddy in the side lightly to watch him squirm. "His parents let him cook for them?"

"I doubt it," Eddy scoffed. "I mean, it's not like they're ever home to eat with him. He's probably just lying so he can do nerdy things without Ed or me there to get in the way."

Mrs. Sullivan's heart went out for the poor boy at the thought of him being home alone after school. She knew that some parents could trust their teens not to get into any shinanigans while they were at work, but with both of her boys, that had never been an option. Eddy was only ever without supervision for maybe an hour before her shift ended at the clinic, and most of that time was usually spent with his two best friends. Perhaps the Blakes didn't approve of their only child leaving the house while they were away?

"I'm sure that's not the case, Hun. Say, I think Eddward should join us for dinner tomorrow night." At Eddy's blanch she frowned, Momma face coming into play. "Tell him I invited him personally and he won't be able to skip out, okay? It's been so long since we've had proper manners at our dinner table..."

"Mom!"

She just laughed and ruffled his hair.

Now, pot roast or marinated chicken...?


	2. Chapter 2

Like a teetering mountain avalanche, Eddward just barely dodged the worst of the falling cans and boxes. A few cans rolled to a stop under the polished kitchen chairs, clink of aluminum on wood and then the house was silent again. He sighed. Messy, messy messy... It wasn't like he hadn't known better, though; although his parents were scientists who demanded a rigidly crisp and efficient working environment, Mrs. Blake was not the best housekeeper, as proven by the sticky notes blotting the fridge's surface. They were busy adults, and what good was a son that couldn't do housework?

Which was precisely what caused the mess in the first place.

"Oh, drat," he muttered. Several boxes of instant rice had been crushed by falling vegetable cans, their remnants scattered across the floor like war shrapnel. He sat up, wincing at the pain in his back. Canned corn rolled out from underneath him and he picked it up (powdered rice clinging to his skin, messy messy) and was less than surprised to find the date expired. Between their new jobs and (Double-D could only assume) sleep, the food supply had only been dwindling. He didn't mind much – his parents had paid out a months worth of school lunches that he still had a good week or so of. By then they would have more in their pantry than dehydrated milk and taco shells, he was sure.

Suddenly his stomach rumbled.

Lovely...

The fridge light flickered slightly, and he made a mental note to replace the bulb immediately after finishing dusting the pantry. There wasn't much more inside than the pantry though, and he eventually decided on an applesauce for the convenience. He was struggling with the tin-foil wrapper when the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" Frosted glass-warped red and black fidgeted from the other side, and Eddy huffed once the door wasn't separating them. He must have noticed Double-D's disheveled appearance, for he frowned, left eyebrow raised. "Eddy! What're you—"

"What happened to you?" Eddy brushed by Double-D, kicking off his sneakers more out of habit than any respect for Edd's wishes. "Working on another one of your science projects?"

Eddward sighed at the obvious disdain in his friends voice. Eddy and academics went about as well together as macaroni and pickled radishes. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not always experimenting on something. Actually, I was..." he swung his arm out, showcasing the inedible mess splattered across his kitchen floor, "...Cleaning."

Eddy stared at the mess for a moment before bursting into laughter, smug mug smirking back. "Cleaning? Well I'd say you failed at that one, Sockhead."

"Har-har." He cringed as he grabbed the broom and dust-pan, paranoid that the contents of the hall cupboard would fall on him too. Everything stayed nestled in their proper places (only Eddward ever used it) and he made short work of the mess. The lone sticky note (Eddward, clean out the pantry. -Mother) had drifted to the dust.

He only hesitated a moment before sweeping that up with the rest as well.

By then Eddy had situated himself atop the island counter. Less than spotless socks made steamy circles from the body heat, and Edd swallowed down the compulsive urge to join him. The temperature wasn't really as frigid cold as it felt. A few more palm or feet prints wouldn't make the house any more occupied. Instead he pulled out the end island chair, sitting gingerly on the edge and picked at his own fingernails to stop from otherwise fidgeting.

"My mom wants you to come to dinner," Eddy said finally. He didn't say anything about himself; the argument from the day before still in both of their minds, but neither willing to mention it. Eddward couldn't see how this one was any different from any of the others that they had (more and more, lately), but he didn't like how his best friend's eyes were distant and opaque as cement walls. "We're having beef stew. It's good."

"Eddy..."

"Just come, alright? Mom sounded really excited, so don't screw this up." Eddy slid off the counter and moved to the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets and back slouched like Double-D's refusal was a weight that he couldn't shrug. He stopped at the door and turned. "You coming?"

"Well, yes... I guess... but—"

"Then move it. My parents are waiting."

Then he opened the door, walking out and leaving the door open for Edd to follow. Edd started, glancing at the kitchen clock for the time. Already 6 pm... Quickly he grabbed a light jacket and shoes, hopping to slip them on and catch up with his best friend.

He supposed it would make sense. Just because his parents didn't come home to eat didn't mean that other families couldn't sit together around a table for dinner. Talk about their days... He snuck a glance at Eddy, suddenly nervous. What if Eddy's parents didn't like him? He had met them before, sure, but never held a conversation. It wasn't like he had had much practice in small-talk lately. What if he said something they considered offensive?

As they walked down the narrow sidewalk towards the last house on the right, Eddward allowed his mind to run rampant with thoughts of dinnertime with the Sullivans. He imagined scenarios where Eddy's dad would decide that he didn't want his son hanging around such a science geek and kicked him out, yelling. Eddy's mother mentally chastised him for his lack of proper manners. He knew of course that the last one was ridiculous – Eddy's manners were too atrocious to come from such a strict family – but he couldn't swallow the irrational panic that she wouldn't like his etiquette, wouldn't like his dress...

Just as he was about to turn tail and run back home for a better pair of jeans, Eddy opened his front door and kicked his shoes off beside the mat. "Mom, Dad, I'm home!"

Just breathe, Eddward. Breathe...

A manly grunt issued from the living room, followed by the news castor's words cutting off mid-sentence as the channel was changed to one with the sound of rushing water. Edd presumed this was Eddy's father, and was proven right when the tall man ambled into the entryway, rubbing his face as though he hadn't been falling asleep in front of the TV. The man dropped his hand when he spotted his son's friend. He gave Double-D a quick look over. His eyes lingered on the worn black beanie.

Suddenly, he grinned and held out his hand. "That Blake kid, right?" Eddward allowed his arm to be pumped up and down in the older man's strong grip, feeling himself nod more out of momentum than enthusiasm. "Good, good. The wife says you're a good kid, get good grades... Try to rub off on Eddy-boy, eh?"

"Dad!"

"Joking, joking," Mr. Sullivan chuckled, ruffling his son's hair before leading the way to the dining room. His shirt and tie were wrinkled from the couch and his socks were two different shades of charcoal, but he looked every bit the salesman. Eddward could see where Eddy got it. The man called over his shoulder, "Hope you like stew, Kid."

"Yes, sir."

Eddy's mother beamed at him from over the large ornamental centerpiece she was hefting off of the table. It was nearly twice as large as the one atop Edd's dining room table (and arguably twice as unattractive), but the chrome-plated duck held a certain charm in its functionality. The Blake family centerpiece had never been moved.

"Eddward, dear," Mrs. Sullivan said between breaths after she set it down to squash the pillows of the couch adjacent, "How have you been? Keeping up with your classes? - Who am I asking; of course you are. What about your science fair project? How's that coming along?"

She pulled out a chair for him while her boys plopped gracelessly into their own, turning to load the table with bowls of stew and side dishes. For a moment Edd sat stupid, debating on whether or not he was actually supposed to answer. "Oh, um... I'm well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Wonderful, wonderful. These two have been eating me out of house and home, but what can you do in a house full of men?" Her laugh was light and airy and suited her. Said men hadn't the chromosomes to both chew and respond in more than grunts. "So have you picked your topic yet?"

"Well, ah, I was thinking something along the lines of creating a liquid nitrogen substitute out of dry ice and Isopropyl rubbing alcohol. I could give a demonstration by freezing and shattering any number of objects - an ordinary flower, for example." The pleasantly creamy mashed potatoes stuck to the serving spoon as he attempted to serve himself, and he subtly shook his hand a few times before realizing his folly and scooping it off with his own fork. Mrs. Sullivan frowned and he cringed.

"That sounds dangerous... Are your parents okay with that?"

Eddward knew a trick question when he heard it, and he had gone through this song and dance enough times with his chemistry teacher for Eddy's kind-hearted mother to not be any challenge. He had to remind himself not to feel bad for thinking about her that way. "Both are relatively harmless on their own, and I've had many hours experience in a lab setting. Plus I'll be supervised and assisted at all times... but thank you for your concern, Mrs. Sullivan."

"His parents won't care, Mom," Eddy interrupted before his mom could start with the whole 'call me Fran' bit as though she weren't old enough to be the mother of a teenager. "Not like they're ever home, anyway."

Eddy, are you stupid?

Most likely, yes. More serious ramifications aside, it was unlikely that Eddy's parents would take kindly to their son staying unsupervised at another teenagers home - especially when you factored the destructive Ed into the equation. Edd tried to kick Eddy under the table to shut him up, but got the table leg instead, jostling the settings and bruising his big toe. Eddy shot him a confused glance over his stew. He didn't understand why Eddward had to lie.

I hope you'll never have to, Edd thought to himself, busying his hands with the napkin he belatedly realized had never been spread across his lap. His fingers stuttered over the material and he hid them under the cloth before anyone noticed.

"Your folks just started up with that science company, yeah?" Mr. Sullivan asked around a mouth full of russet potato. "With the electric-y things and whatnot?"

Edd nodded slowly, waiting to see where the man was going to take this. He knew that several smaller companies were having disputes with his parents' employers lately. Hopefully Eddy's dad wasn't friends with one of them. "The NHA. Mother and Father designed and built the latest hadron collider they placed in the UK. It's-"

"Science stuff, yeah. Got that." Mr. Sullivan scooped up another bite of potatoes, muffling his frustrated confusion while he waved at his son in some kind of familial sign language.

"Dad meant, do they make a lot of money?"

His dad snorted and rolled his eyes, ruffling Eddy's hair and swallowing before saying, "That's not what I meant. Your folks work with crazy science cra- er... stuff. You want to go into the same kind of program when you get older?" His wife gave him an amused look over her glass of wine. Good catch.

"I suppose. I haven't given it much thought, although I probably should have some ideas by now." Mentally he reminded himself to look into a variety of career options to spout out if asked again in the future. Then, chided himself on assuming that anyone would care in the future. It wasn't like Eddy's parents would make the mistake of inviting him over again. Bye bye, Eddy's parents.

"I'm gonna' be a millionaire," Eddy piped up, elbows digging ripples into his place mat. "I'll hire DoubleD to take care of the technical side, and I'll rake in the dough. Capiche'?"

Edd dragged his fork across his mostly empty plate awkwardly. Sometimes (all of the time, if he was being honest) it was easier just to let Eddy ramble on about his plans and how they involved him. Everyone knew on some level that nothing would ever come of it, and Eddy often forgot about them before the crossroads. His parents, however, didn't seem to realize that fact and were giving their son a look that Eddward correlated with a looming lecture.

(That were if the average cartoon or sitcom was to be believed. Edd had seen his mother, briefly, a couple days ago. She had been power-walking out the front door in a skirt suit and heels, briefcase under her arm, and might have hummed a 'goodbye' as she was shutting the door. In all likelihood that was all in loneliness and the creak of the door. Eddward wasn't the best judge of parental facial expressions.)

"Let's focus on something a little more easily attainable," Mrs. Sullivan appeased. "Like a lawyer, or a doctor."

Her husband scoffed, leaning back with a wide hand resting on his wider belly. "Or less school and become a politician, or car salesman like your old man. Hell, you can be a bus driver if it makes you happy, son. Just don't come crying to me for money because I certainly don't have any." His belly laugh shook the table slightly, and Edd touched the rim of his glass lightly to keep it from toppling over.

Eddy shoved his plate towards the center of the table, empty but for the conspicuously untouched pile of green beans, and looked up at his mom with his best pair of innocent doe eyes. "Can we rent a movie tonight?"

"It's a school night, Hun."

"We won't be up late if we put it in soon..."

She already looked won over, but her womanly pride taking great pleasure at her son's effort. "So I suppose he'd be spending the night as well, then?"

Edd glanced between the two, wondering it was really that easy. His own parents had never explicitly expressed any opinion on what he could and could not spend his weeknights doing, but he had always silently assumed that staying up late and rotting his eyes out on plot-less action was not to be on the agenda.

"Mom, we're not little kids anymore. It's not like we're going to stay up all night and braid each other's hair or anything, jeesh."

A heaving sigh, then: "I suppose it's a good thing our next three movies came in the mail this morning then, hm?"

Edd smiled tightly as Eddy pumped his fist in the air, answering Mrs. Sullivan's inquiry about asking his parents with a request for their phone, which she retrieved from the living room. He followed behind her, muting the TV that was airing a special on the migrating patterns of the Great Blue Whale (which he knew from twenty seconds of footage marking it as a rerun he had seen the week prior). She left to give him some privacy.

He dialed his home phone number, not at all surprised when after five rings it went to his recorded voice mail message.

"Mother, Father, this is Eddward. Um, your son. I have been invited to spend the evening with a friend's family, and am calling in case you are wondering where I am. I shall be returning home early tomorrow morning to prepare for school. You can reach me at this number, listed under the 'missed calls' section of the phone under Sullivan." Awkwardly he held the phone to his ear for a few seconds, before ultimately pressing the end button on the phone. He would end up deleting the unheard message the next morning, of course, but at least he tried.

Eddy was smirking up at him with thinly disguised hope when he returned, nodding once to the boy before turning to Mrs. Sullivan. "They said it was alright, provided I return home before school tomorrow morning."

Mrs. Sullivan, for some reason, frowned. Quickly she shook it off however, and smiled warmly at him. "That's great. You boys go pop in the movie and I'll go get a bed set up in Eddy's room. Or would you rather to sleep downstairs?"

"Yeah, downstairs. Dibs on the couch!"

Eddy raced downstairs, more free within the warmth of his home, Edd chuckling behind him. The taller boy lept onto the couch lengthwise, taking up the whole cushioned space between broadening shoulders and an impressive height. Edd stared him down. "If you don't remove your legs, Eddy, I'm afraid I'm going to have to sit on you."

"Yeah right, Sockhead. My couch," he grunted possessively, spreading his arms and legs as if to take up every available inch. In reality it only proved to make Edd laugh at the image he made.

"You look ridiculous like that, I hope you know. Budge up - a couple feet won't hurt you." Still, Eddy made no move to give the thinner boy any space, even going so far as to stick his tongue out at him. Edd sighed, pulling the front of his beanie down an inch in preparation. "I warned you..."

With a flying leap, he landed in a cannonball atop the other male, knocking the breath out of Eddy.

"Wha- What the hell?" Eddy choked out once he could breathe in more than gasps. "I didn't think you were serious!"

But Eddy made a pretty good pillow, all things considered, and Edd found himself not wanting to move. Even despite his embarrassment. Honestly he didn't know what prompted him to act so childishly in front of the other boy, and couldn't immediately explain his actions, so he sent him a smirk, pulling one of the throw pillows onto his lap to hug for comfort. Perhaps he missed spending fun and carefree time with Eddy, and subconsciously pulled this stunt for the boy's attention. Eventually though, he moved down to Eddy's legs, sitting behind them so his own could lay perpendicular over the top like a fallen tent, which was easier on Eddy's breathing.

Contented by the warm atmosphere of the Sullivan household and the even warmer body heat of the Sullivan's son, Eddward missed most of the movie as he drifted off into his first peaceful sleep in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t ask his parents.”

Robert lifted his chin off of his wife’s shoulder long enough to smooth the feathery hair away from her neck, humming into the feel of her soft body nestled against his own. He kissed the pale skin before him lightly. “Hm?”

She let out a little breathy sigh, feet sliding against his rougher legs under the 400-thread count and the moonlight through slatted blinds. “Eddy’s little friend. He left them a message.” Again he hummed against her shoulder blade, not really sure why any of this mattered but if anything he loved his wife and wasn’t too tired to enjoy the vibrations of her voice against his chest. Boys were boys. He himself had informed his parents often enough about what he planned to do before they could say otherwise. “He told me he talked to them... It’s just that he’s never lied to me before. Why over such a small thing?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” His own voice was gruff and too loud in the softness; he made up for it with an open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck, thumb drawing idle circles against her stomach where it lay. “He probably just wanted to stay.”

Another sigh, softer. “They’re too strict with him, I think. Teenagers are supposed to go out on weekends, go to movies...Live a little.”

“Sneak into closed amusement parks?”

She laughed, turning in his arms to rest her against his neck as he laid back to accommodate her. “Don’t go giving Eddy any ideas - he’s turning out good and I don’t want to mess with that. We were... a unique case. Times have changed.”

“Not all that much,” he whispered into her hair. They had had Eddy young. Too young, maybe. They were happy though, and he settled into sleep proud of that fact.

\----------------

He would’ve loved to wax poetic about how even the morning sun was brighter when waking up in a loving environment, but in reality it was still mostly dark out, and chill attacked all the skin not completely covered with blankets. At best he estimated it to be be about five AM, maybe four-thirty, and through the high-mounted den windows he couldn't tell sky from storm cloud. Both were different and dark, swollen and infected like bruises.

Eddy’s legs were a solid presence under him but even they exuded little heat, lost immediately to the cold air around them. Convection, some quiet part of his mind supplied (likely the same part that whispered statistics and corrections during lectures at school).

There wasn’t much of a difference between a sleeping Eddy and an awake one. This was save for, of course, that one’s eyes were closed. Even now sleeping Eddy was mumbling something to the Nazz’s of his dreams, toes twitching against Eddward’s elbow. Movement and motion.

What’s wrong with me?

Eddward carefully extradited himself from the throw blanket (Eddy’s mother was the sweetest lady he had ever met. He’d have to remember to thank her for her hospitality) that had been slipping off his shoulders and stepped over Eddy’s strewn legs. He only realized he had been holding his breath once the other teen licked his lips and rolled over, still asleep. Thank god. Eddy was miserable in the mornings.

To be fair, it was probably too early to be considered polite even for a school morning, but Eddward held a strict schedule and was already behind just by being in another’s home. Still feeling vaguely disconnected he folded the blanket and set the unused pillow atop it, not sure where Eddy’s mother kept them. He padded silently to the kitchen. 

The microwave’s neon numbers told him it was four forty-three. Coffee sat warm and ready in the coffee pot while the rest of the house stood silent in the early hour. Eddy’s mother was an intern at the city hospital, if he remembered correctly (which he was sure he did), and he supposed she would probably be up within the next hour. He didn’t want to wake her...

A notepad was affixed to the fridge front by a magnet, and it took only moments to secure a pen from a nearby drawer. He scrawled a quick but efficient thank you note and debated with himself for a moment before doodling a small smiley face beside his name. He smiled to himself as he left the house, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Whatever sleep-fogginess left had dissipated by the time he got back home, and his primary check revealed that a good amount of dust had accumulated on the mantle and the few framed photographs that sat atop it. He hardly glanced at the happy family inside them; part of him wanted to knock them to the ground while another smaller part of his heart wanted to let the dust grow over their faces, still there but forgotten like his parents seem to have forgotten him.

Oh, cease your dramatics. 

He dusted just as he should have and ten minutes later, house spotless as though he hadn’t lazed about in Eddy’s home for longer than needed, ascended the stairs to prepare for school. He showered and changed into clean clothes. His dirty clothes - wrinkled and odorous from sleeping in them - were folded carefully before depositing them on top of the pile already forming in the laundry bin. If he weren’t out of Lysol, he would have disinfected them as well.

The pantry was just as barren as the day before, his stomach was disappointed to realize. The fridge boasted little more. As much as he hated to rely on anyone, he was thankful that Mrs. Sullivan had allowed him such generous servings for dinner, as he would surely be starving otherwise. Shutting the fridge door, he frowned at it’s clean and efficient metal surface, noticing that this morning he hadn’t found a single sticky note.

\------------------------

“Hey, Double-D,” Eddy called out to him after second period hours later. “Where were you this morning? I had to sit next to Lumpy and he had tuna for breakfast. Tuna!”

And probably didn’t brush his teeth afterwards, either. It was a wonder the boy still had any. “I apologize, Eddy. Mother expects the house to stay clean, so I had to leave early to do my chores. I finished early so I decided to walk to school.”

“Your mother should do her own chores,” he replied eloquently, already digging his lunch money out of his pockets. Ed came bounding down the hall towards them, backpack still unzipped from his rush to cram everything back into it. Eddward thought he saw a tentacle before it slunk behind a lone sock and a dead flashlight. It was best not to ask.

“Hullo, Double-D! Glad you weren’t abducted by aliens!”

Eddy snorted and punched him on the arm, stepping up to the growing lunch line. “I could’a told you that, Lumpy... Ah, shit. Turkey burgers again? Where’s the beef?!”

A little turkey won’t kill you. “Turkey contains anti-cancer properties. It is a very good source of selenium, which is an essential component for thyroid hormone metabolism, antioxidant defense systems, and immune function. Studies suggest that it can bring down cancer incidences, too.” He stepped up with his own plate, handing his ID card to the graying lunch lady who was looking rather amused by his facts.

“If I wanted to hear a bunch of useless crap, I’d pay attention in chemistry. We’re men here, and real men eat meat.”

Turkey is meat, Eddy...

A small cough brought Eddward’s attention back to the sympathetic-looking woman. “I’m sorry dear, but it looks like your card’s all out. Did you bring any money?”

But... I should still have enough for the rest of the week! “Ah, I’m afraid not. I-I, uh..” Wordlessly he handed the plate over to the lady, who set it beside the register before checking out the next student’s purchase. 

Eddward made his way over to his two best friends, who had made their way over to their table without noticing his dilemma. Upon sitting down, Ed immediately jumped him.

“Double-D, where’s your food? Did the aliens take your organs and make you drink through a squiggly straw?”

Definitely easier not to ask. “No aliens this time, Ed. It seems I’ve run out of money on my lunch card. I could have sworn I had another couple days worth at least, but I suppose not...” Eddward leaned his chin on his palm and gazed out across the bustling cafeteria, trying not to smell the appealing odors wafting up from the tables around him. Suddenly something small and brown bumped against his elbow. He looked up to find Eddy very pointedly not meeting his eyes. The Hostess cupcake sat beside elbow tauntingly, and he froze for a moment, waiting for Eddy to change his mind.

The boy across the table just huffed, cheeks pinking. “If you’re not going to eat it, give it back.”

Eddward jolted, scooping the cupcake up between agile fingers as he began to dismantle the packaging. “Ah- thank you, Eddy. Your generosity is appreciated.”

“Yeah, whatever...” Eddy’s cheeks turned just a little redder. Beside him, Ed stuffed both his own cupcake and about half of his sandwich into his mouth at once. 

\--------------------------

“Dinner’s at six,” Eddy informed him as they were stepping off the bus and he, too cold in the sudden rush of wind and chill, was too busy tugging his jacket closer to come up with an adequate excuse. The other teen smirked in his direction before running off towards his own house, backpack bouncing around like it was threatening flight. Eddward frowned after him. If he actually has his schoolbooks in there, I’ll be surprised.

Focus, he whispered to himself. Apparently the Sullivan’s hadn’t been too horribly put-off by his last visit to their home, or (more likely, his mind taunted) they were simply too polite to say so. In that case though, one would think that they would just cease their invitations. Perhaps they found him some strange oddity. He’d played often enough as entertainment for his parents’ friends back when he was little and they actually had friends instead of only colleagues; the adults had always stared at him like an orangutan on display. An orangutan with an abacus.

He finished all his housework in record time, taking care to search in all the usual places for the sticky notes, but to no avail. It would seem that his parents hadn’t had the opportunity to come home yet - that or the stop had been so brief as to not have the spare time to write him. He hovered outside their room, wondering if maybe he would be able to discern the answer by it’s contents. Eventually he headed back to his own room for a change of clothes, deciding that no, he wouldn’t.

That would require him having ever entered into there before, after all.

That evening Mr. Sullivan let him into the man’s home as willingly as the day before, leading him into the living room with a hearty hand on his back. Eddy was stretched out across the length of the couch, sneakers hanging precariously off of the feet atop the upholstered arm. At first glance he appeared to be watching some sort of sports broadcast with his father, but he was eager enough to hijack the remote and insist that they watch something they all could agree on (or in other words, an excuse for Eddy to change the channel to some violent construction paper cartoon). Eddward would have denied enjoying that sort of thing if Eddy’s father hadn’t immediately looked just as amused as he had at his game.

Some twenty minutes into said mind-numbing program later, Eddy’s mother came in through the entryway, looking surprised to see him tucked in between her boys on the couch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Eddward-dear. They were supposed to let me know when you got here; the rice is almost done. You like Chinese, I hope?”

Lately he liked anything he could make out of the scraps left in his cupboards. “Yes - thank you very much for having me.”

“It’s nothing, Hun.” She smiled at him, even as she thwacked her oblivious husband and son over the head with the dishtowel in her hands. They blinked up at her like two domesticated dogs. “We like having you. At least someone knows how to complement my cooking.”

“It’s wonderful, Dear--”

“Great, Mom--”

She laughed, and Eddward smiled back hesitantly, following her and the other two men into the dining room. As he had anticipated, her cooking was just as delicious the second night, and he tried not to make a spectacle of himself as he nearly dropped his chopsticks with every bite. Eddy and his father resorted to stabbing at the meat barbarically. Only Mrs. Sullivan seemed to know how to use them correctly, but she kept that secret to herself.

When time came from him to go, Eddy turned puppy eyes on his mother. She sighed. “You’re welcome to stay the night again, Eddward, so long as the two of you don’t stay up too late. You must be a good influence - Eddy did all his homework as soon as he got home. I can only guess it’s because he hoped I’d let you stay?”

The aforementioned boy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom...”

It wasn’t like he had anyone waiting for him at home. The house wouldn’t be overrun with dust for just one more night... “I’d need to go back to my house for fresh clothing first... and ask for permission,” he tacked on after a thought. “As long as you’re agreeable, I would not be opposed to another sleepover.”

It was decided. As Mrs. Sullivan cleared the table and her male counterpart settled down for more television entertainment, Eddy followed him back to his house like an overgrown guard dog. He was following so close on his heels in fact, that Eddward spun around at the end of the driveway, shooting his taller friend a withering look.

“Must you stand so close, Eddy? It is polite to allow one some amount of personal space... and I doubt it was absolutely necessary for you to accompany me. Do you have any ulterior motives I should know about?”

Eddy’s answering smirk wasn’t conductive to his response. “Nah, just bored. Why? It’s not like you to stay over anywhere, much less two nights in a row. You goin’ after my mom or anything, Casanova?”

“O-of course not, Eddy! Your mother’s not only twenty years older than me, but married too. Please don’t even joke about such things...” He unlocked the front door for Eddy, toeing off his shoes and shutting it behind them silently. The house was silent around them.

Or at least until Eddy broke it.

“Alright,” the other teen dictated, “go and grab your clothes and backpack. Are your parents home today, or do you need to call them?”

Eddward froze for a moment in walking up the stairs. He continued towards his room immediately though, hoping Eddy hadn’t noticed. “There should be a phone number on the pad beside the fridge. Will you give that a call for me? Most likely it will just go to a voicemail; my parents are rather busy during the work day.”

“Sure,” the other male called up to him, and from his bedroom Eddward could hear Eddy rummaging around in the kitchen. He swept around his room grabbing an extra pair of jeans and a shirt, stuffing them into his backpack that had been sitting beside his desk. He was just grabbing his toothbrush when Eddy called up once again. “Yo, Double-D! It says that the number’s been disconnected.”

Is the world spinning, or is that just me? Eddward had to sit down on the top step to find his breath again, out of sight from his friend down below. His parents didn’t have cell numbers. Hell, he didn’t even have the general number for the company they worked for to be directed to them. If something were to happen to him, how could he possibly get a hold of them now?

And there hadn’t been any new sticky notes this morning, either.

Pull yourself together, Eddward. You’re made of tougher material than this.

Even with the motivating self-talk, he had to clear his throat twice before he could find the words to reply to his friend. “I’m sorry; that must have been their old office number before they transferred departments. I’ve been meaning to get their new one. Suppose I just haven’t gotten around to it yet... I’ll just leave them a note so they will know where I’ve gone if they come home to find me missing.”

He finally descended the stairs, hurt hidden away behind a decidedly neutral expression. It felt wooden even on his own face, but Eddy didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. A half empty glass of water sat on the counter top, which he rinsed quickly to stick into the dishwasher. Then he grabbed his back and walked to the front door.

When he reached the door nob he realized that Eddy wasn’t following him. Said boy was shooting him a weird look, standing beside the fridge still.

“Uh, your note? In case your parents come home?”

He quickly backtracked, scribbling a quick “staying at Eddy’s again, be home tomorrow” across a sticky note and stuck it to the clean fridge surface. Then they both left, the house dark and empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. So. I actually have a bit of this written and typed up... Kind of didn't know that people read it, so that's interesting. I'll post up the next chapter tomorrow. :D


	4. Chapter 4

It was green and grey, small round chunks of something brownish peeking in between the gooey layers wherever it saw fit. Eddy poked at it with the end of his spoon; the thing gave one pulsing jiggle before sucking the utensil up inside it like a vacuum.  
  
“I’d give you _this_ , but I think my mom would kill me for giving you food poisoning,” Eddy decided, shoving the lunch tray away while passing Eddward the apple, himself the cookie and Pepsi (a growing boy’s got to eat - a growing teenager even more, he figured). The discarded tray he allowed Ed to pilfer. _He_ at least seemed excited about eating the fearful blob.  
  
Eddward accepted the fruit gratefully and with much thanks. It had been a week since he’d found the last sticky note from his parents, and at least two-thirds that time since he had had anything edible in his home. He would never admit it to his friend, but his lunchtime offerings were what kept him running.  
  
“Dinner’s at six tonight, by the way. We’re hitting the movies afterwards. Croctopus IV, baby!” Ed and Eddy exchanged energetic high-fives over the table.  
  
 _And the Sullivan’s nightly dinner invitations. Thank god for small kindness and Eddy’s mother’s home cooking._  
  
Eddward hummed to himself, wondering just how long his good fortune would last. With any luck, his parents would return home by Monday and he could just forget this as all part of a pimple on the face of his adolescence. Until that time did come though, he was content for the time with spending the evenings at Eddy’s home, eating and more often than not crashing on their couch beside his best friend. Cheesy horror flicks were becoming a great lullaby.  
  
“As much as I appreciate the offer, I’ll think I’ll leave you and yours to your devious machinations after dinner. May I inquire as to what Mrs. Sullivan will be serving tonight?”  
  
Eddy snorted, looking damned-near insulted. “It’s _Croctopus_ , Double-D. The unholy union of crocodile and octopus plus about two tons of _deadly inking teeth-fury_!” And Eddy honestly wondered why he thought they were all crazy. “And you sound like a creeper. _Mrs. Sullivan_? Dude.”  
  
“Be that as it may, but I’m afraid I still have to pass. I can’t very well spend the whole weekend with you; I’m pretty sure your parents will grow weary of my presence shortly.”  
  
Eddy stared at him as though _he_ was the half crocodile-half octopus. “You’re crazy, man. My folks _ love_ you. I think Mom’s about two dinners away from naming you a honorary Sullivan. Hard to dislike a guy that compliments their every breath, I guess.”  
  
Immediately guilt built up in Eddward’s throat. He hadn’t _meant_ to suck up to Eddy’s parents so much; it was instinctual for him to deal with stress with manners and compliments to gather others’ interest on themselves. The last thing he wanted was for Eddy to feel like he was trying to steal his family. He would have to back off.  
  
It would be much easier of course, if he wasn’t depending on them for food.  
  
Evidently his indecision was visible on his face, for Eddy coughed weakly, patting him roughly on the back to equalize. “Chill out, dude. I don’t mind it. Hell, when Mom’s buttered up by you, she lets me do whatever the hell I want. She doesn’t let just _anyone_ stay over five school nights in a row, let alone one.” He paused to down the rest of his soda, passing it to Ed who dutifully crushed it between forehead and palm. “So, still going to try and pass on Croctopus?”  
  
Eddward heaved a sigh, picking up his apple and the crushed can, disposing them in their respective recycling receptacles. “Fine, fine. _Someone_ needs to point out the evolutionary errors involved, of course. We’ll make a learning experience of it.”  
  
And just as planned, the other two groaned.  
  
\-----------------  
  
“Glad you could make it, Blake,” Eddy’s dad greeted from the couch after calling a ‘come in’ at the front door (as though he hadn’t been staying at their house for about a week. Apparently Edy wasn’t the only Sullivan excited for the B-rated film). “Was starting to think you weren’t gonna’ show. Parents giving you trouble?”  
  
Eddy wrung his hands. “Ahh... Something like that. I apologize for keeping you waiting.” _Not a lie. Not exactly._  
  
Mr. Sullivan just waved a hand, seemingly indecisive as to whether the TV or Eddward’s conversations required more of his attention. He gestured vaguely toward the stairs. “Dinner’s still a little ways off. The boys are upstairs.”  
  
 _Was that supposed to be an invitation?_  
  
He debated momentarily as to whether or not to offer help to Mrs. Sullivan in the kitchen, but decided against it. Eddy’s earlier comment - whether meant as a complaint or not - had him thinking about the prospect of family for the last couple hours. He had been trying to remember the last Blake family outing when he had realized that he had been running late to dinner. His own parents wouldn’t have accepted the excuse. Now, they didn’t even know he was gone.  
  
Ed and Eddy glanced up as he knocked and opened the bedroom door. Both boys were seated before Eddy’s television, controllers between each sweaty palm. Eddward chuckled at their wide eyes, glancing at the screen to find Eddy’s character being beat up by a rather colorful looking young woman (doubtlessly they presumed him to be above said shenanigans - which he was. Or at least, he was above grand theft auto himself. They were, of course, welcome to continue).  
  
He sat down on the bed behind Eddy’s legs, crossing his own and propping himself back on his elbows. “I think that prostitute may have just hijacked your previously stolen vehicle.”  
  
Eddy’s attention jerked back to the screen in time to watch his character be run over by the Ferrari-imitation. With a muttered curse, he passed the controller to Ed, who immediately began mashing the buttons. Eddy leaned his head back to get a better look at his fairer friend. “You look like someone ran over your cat. What’s up, Sockhead?”  
  
“I don’t own a cat, Eddy.” Said boy looked up to the ceiling, fingertips idly finding Eddy’s hair against his knees as he contemplated his answer. “I suppose I’m just... tired. It’s been a long week.”  
  
Eddy grumbled, the sound traveling up his fingers, where they finished their compulsive grooming of the other males’ hair. “You’ve been here all week. Am I supposed to be offended now, or something?”  
  
“Not at all. Your home is lovely, by the way. I appreciate your allowing me to stay for so long,” he said softly, adding an awkward pat to the top of Eddy’s head. On screen, Ed’s avatar fell to his demise from a helicopter - where he got it, Eddward wasn’t sure - and he passed the controller back to Eddy.  
  
When they were finally called down to dinner ten minutes later, the three boys were seated along one side of the table, the parents on the other. Eddward was the only one without a body across from him, and despite how delicious the food, made no effort to participate in the conversation. He and Ed were guests. Seeing the tallest teen shovel mashed potatoes around his plate reminded him that his stay had a departure time attached (no matter the leeway, or Mrs. Sullivan’s insistence that he was welcome any time). This wasn’t his home or his food, and he spent the thirty minutes being as quiet and polite as he could be, and no one interrupted him.  
  
They left at a quarter to seven. One would think, given the Sullivan males’ whining, that the film had already begun and were missing valuable plot. Eddy’s mother was brilliant however, and informed the monkeys in the back that it didn’t start for another hour. That shut them up quickly (or at least until Ed’s stomach growled and they started screaming about Croctopus being in the car with them).  
  
Eddward gazed out the window as the building lights flowed past. The transparent pane reflected everything back in glowing blurry two-fold, and he allowed himself the momentary solitude it provided him. As long as he didn’t focus on the obnoxious volume beside him, he could almost - _almost_ \- imagine it was his own family he was going out with. They were seeing a documentary on the marine life of the south Pacific; five o’clock showing so they had plenty of time left for a late dinner, in the living room for once. They didn’t own a TV - polluted the mind and made one lazy, his father adhered by - so they would entertain each other with tales of their day at work or school. His parents would apologize for leaving him home alone so often and tell him they loved him. Before bed, Mother would heat him up a glass of milk and rub his feet, humming softly (a Lifetime drama had been playing in the background of Ed’s house one summer day, and Eddward always secretly thought that sounded wonderful).  
  
Then Eddy’s father crashed into him, jamming down the window controls and the daydream was broken.  
  
“Sorry, son,” the man groaned, weight lording over him towards the window until he was nearly one with the seat’s leather. “I thought it was just the front seat. Guess I get car-sick in the back too, haha.”  
  
“It’s fine, Mr. Sullivan.”  
  
“Call me Robert, please. Mr. Sullivan’s my dad.” _Robert_ chuckled, obviously proud of the joke, while his wife in the front seat sighed, pulling the SUV into the theater parking lot.  
  
It quickly became obvious that the movie was a popular one (though Eddward honestly couldn’t see the appeal), as all the spots in a comfortable walking distance had been taken and a line was just starting to peak out the doors. Instead of being discouraged, however, Mrs. Sullivan cheered from the front while her husband groaned.  
  
“A little walk never hurt anybody. And now we’re closer to the grocers, so less of a walk there, alright?”  
  
The Sullivan’s had a system. Movie theater snacks, he was informed (quite determinedly at that by Eddy’s mother), were edible heart attacks and only a step above rubber. A small bag of popcorn also cost half the ticket price, and somehow he thought _that_ might be the main motivator, not that he blamed her. She bustled them up and down a few grocery aisles, instructing the males  to each grab a bottled drink and about ten bags of candy between the four of them. At the register she set down a bottle of iced tea and a Dove chocolate bar for herself, and politely declined the cashier’s offer for a bag.  
  
Only steps outside the doors, she collected their food back from them. “Drinks on bottom, candy on top... I still need to be able to get to my wallet, Eddy.” And amazingly enough, it all fit with room to spare inside her huge red purse. The acne-laden teen at the ticket counter eyed it as she paid for the movie, but didn’t say anything.  
  
Eddy and his dad high-fived as soon as they were  around the corner.  
  
\-------------  
  
 ** “ Paging, Sullivan. Paging, Sullivan .” **  
  
The PA system crackled coming on and, for all she knew, someone could be crinkling tin foil for all the racket it made turning off. Her theory was that it was intentional. After all, hospitals were supposed to spend their money on life-saving equipment and not sparkly new Over-Coms, right? She had tried to set up a betting pool to that very fact; apparently gambling on hospital grounds was frowned upon and she was advised to do her intern duties and leave the budgeting to Corporate.  
  
So far, the stakes were about two-hundred bucks in her favor.  
  
She had to maneuver around a few wheelchair-bound patients to get to Reception, dinging the customer service bell a few times.  
  
“Sitting right here, Cindy,” the woman behind the counter drawled, eyeing her over a _Spiderman_ comic book.”I’m _always_ right here. Including yesterday.”  
  
“Testy, testy.” Cindy Sullivan dumped her clipboard and stack of patient charts on the counter top, leaning forward onto her elbows to take some of the strain off of her lower back. “What’s the deal?”  
  
“Family of six, Doctor’s thinking strep. Don’t know why people always come to the ER for something their family physician can take care of... Your turn to play nurse. Have fun.”  
  
“Wonderful. Don’t work too hard, now.”  
  
The woman shot her a salute, heading back to the comic, and Cindy set off down the East Wing hallway towards room... five-oh-six, according to updated charts she had snagged off of the desk. Her off-white Keds squeaked on the lacquered flooring; a cheerful sound amidst the EKG’s and coughing and that God-awful PA. She had tried once to lighten up the monotony with a little music, but the doctors didn’t tend to like the interns that couldn’t hear them over their headphones. Honestly, she should have known better (two boys, one already grown - she certainly had gotten enough calls from agitated teachers to drive in the message). It was hard to talk yourself out of something though, when it sounded _oh so good_ .  
  
Five-oh-six opened to two parents and a medley of children, all wearing drug store-issue surgical masks. “And you must be the Trigham family. My name is Cindy, and I’ll be your nurse this--”  
  
The mother interrupted quickly, tone critical. “I asked explicitly to speak to the doctor. What is the meaning of this?”  
  
 _Oh, if only she were allowed to say what was on her mind..._ “I’m sorry for the miscommunication, Ma’am. You came to the Emergency section of the hospital; our doctors are very busy trying to save lives, and they rely on us to gather all the information we can about what ails you, so that they can better and more efficiently help you. Now, if I could just get out your--”  
  
“The doctor, _please_.”  
  
“Of course, Ma’am.” Only by pure force of will could she maintain her Customer Service smile until she exited the room, placing the patient chart backwards into the holder for good measure. The Trigham’s would get their doctor, but most likely not until they either came looking for one, or the doctor came in for the end-of-day chart notes. _Whoops, they must have been overlooked_. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence.  
  
Although it was worrying how little common courtesy someone could give the person trying to help them.  
  
“At least I left the chart this time,” she explained to the woman at the desk when she came back after five minutes (the last two of which were spent fighting with the vending machine over her bag of peanut M &M’s).  
  
“Fair enough.” She was passed another chart, this one about a fourth as thick. The woman’s face told more than the file. “Little old lady complaining of diarrhea.”  
  
“Ugh. Next time, don’t tell me. Now I have to think it about all the way up to the third floor.”  
  
Suddenly the cell phone in her pocket started buzzing, reminding her of the fact that she had forgotten to transfer it to her locker after changing at the start of shift. The little screen read _Home_. Normally she would have taken the call into the bathroom or down an empty hall, but her boss had been in an especially bad mood all morning and didn’t want to piss him off any more. With a guilty wince, she silenced it.  
  
She spent the next hour taking chart notes for several patients, most of which weren’t serious and with a cast or prescription were fit for release. Grunt work, honestly. However, even the steady flow of names and faces and ailments couldn’t keep that phone call out of her mind for long. Her boys were self-sufficient (to an extent, she would admit), and knew enough to not call her at work unless it was an emergency. Eddy, of course, was liable to call as he pleased (as he had proven the past week when he had asked if he could get a pet iguana. When she got a spare moment she snuck into an unused room to check her cell phone.  
  
 _Four Missed Calls..._  
  
Just as she was pressing the send button, the door flew open. “Hey, we could use you in two-thirteen. Chart’s on the door.” Feeling annoyed, she grunted out an affirmative, the man leaving the room just in time for her home voicemail box to click on.  
  
By the time she pulled the chart from the holder outside the door, her mothers’ mind was already dreading all the shenanigans Eddy could possibly be getting up to that required not one but _five_ calls during work hours. (Granted, any of those could have belonged to her husband who - good for him - didn’t have to work on Saturdays, but Robert had learned sometime around their third year of marriage that workplace hanky was a big no-no. Even over the phone.) Frankly, she felt bad for whoever was behind the door, because she was certain that she was failing at keeping the frown off her face.  
  
She was surprised, however, when she opened the door. Her son and his smart little friend stared wide-eyed back, both pressing bags of ice to one of Eddward’s arms.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, discovered that AO3 doesn't like my formatting and so far none of the chapters posted includes the (very many) italices and bolding that I tend to throw in willy-nilly. Tried to take the time to fix it, but it wouldn't let me. Eh, forget it. I use too much formatting, anyway. XD


	5. Chapter 5

What with the wonders of modern medical advancements, his wrist was determined broken (in two places, no less) and Eddy's wonderful mother had it in a lime green cast by the end of the hour. The color choice was more Eddy's influence than his own - something about eye color and it being closer than the next sky blue option - but it was of no consequence to him. A cast was only designed to hold the bones still and steady while mending, and it would have served it's purpose just as well in florescent pink.

For her part, Eddy's mother performed her duties silently and efficiently, only speaking once to determine which color he wanted for the wrapping material. Her mouth was held in a firm line. His fingers twitched, so he fisted his hand and shoved it in his pocket.

Doubtlessly, he had proven himself more trouble than he was worth. It was a small enough token to allow him to share in their nightly meals, to sleep on the otherwise unused side of Eddy's King-sized bed. He could even tell himself that his best friend's grades had improved with the convenient tutor (not that Eddy would let him teach for long - ten minutes and they were playing another video game or watching another movie).

Intruding upon her work hours, bearing a broken wrist from their trouble making, would be any parent's red flag. When teenagers acted unthinkingly, they got themselves hurt. Sometimes others as well. He swallowed hard with the thankfulness that it hadn't been Eddy who fell playing on skateboards.

Beside him, Eddy was practically twitching. "You've got to let me draw something on your cast, Double-D. It'll be a masterpiece! And we can have the whole cul-de-sac sign it, too - but not on this side. This side is all mine."

"Nothing vulgar, if you'll please, Eddy. I don't think our teachers will appreciate it..."

Mrs. Sullivan came and sat down beside him on the raised examination table, green wrapping partially unrolled in her hands. She set it aside and focused on him. "Are you still in any pain?"

He shook his head no. (It still twinged a bit, but he wasn't about to cause any more fuss.)

Her professional expression melted away, and she laid a hand lightly atop his cast. "Eddward, dear... What happened?"

Eddward blushed and looked down. He would have fidgeted with his fingers, but he couldn't get his limbs to move. It was so stupid..."Kevin - ah, a classmate who also lives in the cul-de-sac - he left his skateboard out on his front lawn. We were just... I wasn't thinking. I apologize for putting you at an inconvenience."

"It isn't any trouble at all," she said softly. Eddy's knee leaned a bit, tapping against his dangling foot. He didn't look up. "It's my job. I'm just sorry you were hurt. You're a sweet kid."

Turning a deeper red, Eddward tapped Eddy's knee back, mouth pulling into a small smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Sullivan."

"We tried calling you," Eddy added helpfully. "Like, five times. You didn't answer - obviously."

Eddy's mother sighed, hand going to her pocket subconsciously. He could just make out the bulge of something small and rectangular. Her guilt was apparent. "Sorry, dear. The boss was being rather-"

"So, can we have some money for the arcade, then? They just got this new shooting game. It's got killer Playboy Bunnies!"

"I'm afraid not." She turned from Eddy to pat Eddward on top of his hat-covered head, sighing exasperatedly. "That anesthesia is going to kick-in in about twenty minutes, Hun. You're not going to want to do much of anything but sleep. Have you called your parents yet?"

What would be the point? They wouldn't answer, anyway.

"Um, I-"

Eddy interrupted with a look that screamed, why would we do that? "We called you, didn't we? I didn't think his parents would know how to fix his arm."

Mrs. Sullivan stood from the table and picked up the abandoned clipboard. She seemed to steel herself at the door, straightening and taking in a big breath. "Alright, then. Informing the parents.Fun. You boys sit tight... Eddy, don't touch that."

His mother left and Eddy shot Eddward a sheepish grin, setting the green roll back onto the counter. Instead, he hopped up next to the shorter boy. Eddward leaned into the warmth - they had to remove his jacket in order to get to his arm, and the office was cold and clinical despite the inspiration posters of kittens and whales. Eddy allowed the silence to hang comfortably for a few moments - a few moments longer than he had assumed the boy would, at least - before heaving out a gigantic sigh.

"Your folks aren't gonna' be like... pissed or anything, are they?" Eddy bumped his shoulder. He wasn't as annoyed as he should have been. "Mom's gonna' yell at me, I know. Being immature and all that... Sorry you got hurt, dude."

"Oh, it's- it's not your fault, Eddy." For reasons he couldn't explain, he could feel his face heat up, and leaned away from the taller male before he too could feel how heavy his heart was pounding. It hadn't been Eddy's fault, for once. There had been words, of course. Taunts... Eddward had allowed himself to fall for Eddy's bait, though. He wasn't athletic and he didn't have any sense of balance to speak of. What possessed him to think he could get on a skateboard without causing a calamity? "The blame lies with myself. I suppose I just..." It was lonely, sometimes. Being the geek. No one bothered to inquire anymore, whether he wished to join in. For a few moments on top of that precarious wooden deathtrap, he hadn't felt so alone. Eddy was laughing - with him, not at him. That sense of belonging had been warm, and when he had fallen, the loss of that hurt worse than the broken arm. He shook his head. "I had a temporary loss in judgement. I appreciate your accompanying me to the doctors, though. You didn't have to... I could have walked by myself..."

As expected, Eddy rolled his eyes. The boy leaned over and plucked his discarded jacket off the chair and tossed it at him. It didn't land softly. Eddy obviously wasn't wary of hurting him further. "Whatever, Sock-head. Don't talk like I carried you here or anything."

(Even if he practically had. Eddy was a religious toter of Manly Pride and wouldn't admit to care or concern if his allowance depended on it.) Manly Pride didn't stop Eddy from helping him into his coat, however. He couldn't fit the cast through the skinny arm-holes of course, but having the jacket draped across his shoulders like a cape helped dispel the chill. And there was a chill - he hadn't been in many medical offices, but those he had contained a certain frost at odds with the lukewarm and magazine-encrusted waiting rooms. There was a good reason for the term "cold and clinical."

And now he was being melodramatic.

"Yes, Eddy," he acquiesced.

The other boy puffed up a bit, leaning back on arms much thicker than his own. Eddy eyed his cast again. "Bet they'll let you take Monday off, what with the arm and all..." A small cough to start his spiel that Eddward had heard a thousand ways in one form or another. "I don't have a test or anything that I have to be there for. We should totally skip and go to the arcade. Tell me you think it's an awesome plan."

For Eddy, it actually was, if only because it didn't involve conning younger children out of their pocket money. Yet, at least. He wiped at the bridge of his nose with his good hand. "Skipping is a horrible idea. Your education is an important thing - how do you suspect you will get into a good college if you show abysmal attendance rates?"

"People actually pay attention to that?" He actually looked amazed by that fact, and Eddward both wanted to strangle him and lock him in a small bright room. How did the boy possibly expect to get through life? It didn't seem to faze Eddy for long. "College is for schmucks. I'm gonna' be the president or something. Maybe run one of those big companies with the tall buildings and have my own personal maid. No, make that five maids; one for each of my five super-awesome mansions."

"Your mind must by a fantastic place, Eddy," he intoned dryly. "The vast majority of all CEO's have at least a Bachelor's degree in business. That is four years of college," he added when the wordBachelor brought a leer to his friend's face. "Not to say that you couldn't hold such a reputable position, but do try to keep your aspirations within the bounds of plausibility, please. President?Really."

Eddy kicked his legs about, tilting his chin towards the ceiling. Wayward strands of brown hair flopped back towards his shoulders. "Well, shit. Can't I just like... take a summer course or something?" He sighed and tilted his head to the side, so that half-lidded brown eyes peeked through his bangs at him. Eddy could be so sweet sometimes when he wasn't trying to trick him. "Fine, fine. But we're going when I get off, got it? You never do anything fun."

Sweet, definitely. He told the other boy he thought so, and Eddy's face soured, as predicted. "Don't get the wrong idea. I just wanna' play the Playboy game. Shit, you can go read in a ditch for all I care."

It was at this time that the office door opened, Eddy's mother entering looking equal parts annoyed and distracted. The look passed as soon as it appeared, but he had a pretty good feeling as to what brought it on.

"Sorry, Hun," she tossed their way, stopping at the counter to deposit the now empty clipboard in a plastic slot that looked designed to hold the office supply. "But we couldn't get a hold of your parents. They're probably just at work, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you here to wait for them. My shift just ended, so would you like to come home with us until your parents get off from work?"

He didn't think it wise to remind her that he had practically been a fixture in their home for the last week. If things continued as they had been, he'd be tucked up next to Eddy on the couch within the next hour, dozing off to whatever kung-fu film the taller boy decided was badass at the time. "Yes, please. With the latest transfer..." they stopped coming home, stopped talking to me, stopped providing food, shelter, love. "The number on file is probably just outdated. I will be sure to make sure the hospital gets the corrected information."

She nodded distractedly, shedding her gloves into a specially designed receptacle and unbuttoning the lab coat. It was hung on a small orange hook on the wall behind the door, where he presumed a sterilization technician would come around to take it off to be cleaned. "Alright, just let me... Eddy, for the last time, please leave the tape alone."

Eddy grinned cheekily as he pulled the neon tape back out from his pocket. Why he felt the need to rile his mother so, Eddward had no idea. If his mother were present, he'd be on his very best behavior (so that hopefully she wouldn't be disgusted enough with him to leave again, some masochistic thought added. He forcefully pushed the thought back). "But it's just so..."

"Green?"

"Can't I just cover my door with it or something?"

For a moment, he thought she might actually agree, before she laughed and plucked the tape from her son's fingers lightly. "As groovy as I'm sure that would look, this is officially hospital property. Like the stethoscope and the water dispenser you decided you had to have last time you were here." Wisely, Eddward decided it wasn't worth the hassle to ask. Mrs. Sullivan tucked the tape away in a low cupboard, atop a few rolls of gauze, and clapped her hands together lightly. "Okay! So, let's get you out of here, okay?"

As it turned out, the drugs indeed did kick in fairly quickly, and even on the car ride back to Eddy's it was a struggle to maintain an alert front. Thankfully, Eddy was distracted by mundane conversation with his mother, so he didn't have to grunt his way through anything more than the occasional yes or no. Cognitive thought, it would seem, didn't care to stick around when the entirety of your body was floating in a drugged softness akin to jello. Goodbye, reasoning.

They arrived home sometime between blinks. Mrs. Sullivan shuffled them into the house and onto the couch with strict instructions for him to do absolutely nothing but relax and, if the remote thrust in his face was any indication, methodically slaughter his few remaining brain cells. He fumbled with the channel up and down buttons until some sort of documentary came on. The narrator had a soothing British accent. For once, Eddy didn't complain about his choice in entertainment and settled in on his good side, arm thrown up and over the couch back as though afraid of even touching him. It's just shock, some still functioning part of his brain supplied. He'll go back to normal once he assuages his guilt.

Not that it had been Eddy's fault. He couldn't remember properly, but he thought he already had this talk with the taller boy. Maybe. Possibly...

Somehow the show had jumped several geographical regions without him realizing it. On screen was stock footage of a heard of zebra drinking from a river. He tried to recall the name of the river based off of the creatures' known habitats, but came up blank. The narrator started droning on in his softly lilting voice about South Africa and the wild beasts that occupied it's landscapes andwhat was he trying to remember again? It was comfortable and dark and quiet in here. It couldn't have been important.

He shrugged off the thought and, when Eddy looked down at him, realized that he had literally shrugged for a metaphorical idea. That amused him, so he started chuckling as his friend stared down at him like he had lost it.

Technically, you have. You are so drugged up right now... Stop laughing... Stop being a freak...

Eventually - he couldn't say when - he was finally able to calm down and open his eyes again (when had they even closed?). It occured to him, then, that there was no way local anesthesia was the reason for his out-there reactions. He flicked his tongue out a few times to wet his lips (his mouth was really dry all of a sudden) and drudged up enough energy to tilt his head enough to stare at Eddy. "Eddy... What did... What did your mother give me?"

A large hand came down from somewhere above him and a weight was lifted from his head. My hat... The hand then began to gently weave through the revealed strands, carefully sorting out the tangles that came from being stuffed under a cotton beanie. It was relaxing and only marginally invasive and it wasn't as if he hasn't already seen it, so he finally let his eyes shut and allowed the motion to continue.

"That's the single most adorable thing I have ever seen, ever."

Eddy snorted, looking up from his best friend to his mother, still brushing the soft hair back. Double-D was obviously doped up on something, and it had only taken a few minutes of petting before the semi-conscious boy could be convinced to actually lie down instead of the awkward half-lean he had positioned himself in. The new position had the smaller teen practically splayed across his lap, but it also stopped the crick forming in his neck from holding his arm up for so long. "I'm glad you thought I was such an ugly baby."

His mother laughed, setting the opaque yellow shopping bags on the kitchen counter, Eddy having to turn slightly to follow her with his eyes to the next room. "You're still my baby, Sweetheart." Cue sickeningly sweet blown kisses. Yuck. He'd walked into that one. She threw a hand on her hip. "It's just nice to see you've got a soft spot."

Understandably, he balked at the idea. He was not soft, especially not for such a total loser. "I don't have soft spots."

"Of course. Mr. Hard-Ass, how could I forget." The cheerful sarcasm was tangible. She didn't even pause in putting away the groceries to debunk his claim. "I just mean... I'm glad you're such a great friend. A mother worries, after all. You used to be a little pain in the ass, you know. Loved you, love you, but still. Pain in the ass."

"Yeah, whatever."

She finished up with the groceries and, after shoving the empty bags into a plastic container under the sink, came to stand behind the couch, leaning over him and Double-D. He could see the way her eyes tracked over the cast, then clothes. (Sock-head had been too wiped-out to bother changing into a pair of Eddy's sweats as he had been doing this last week, despite the size differences, and had all but passed out in his dorky sweater-vest and button-down shirt.) Finally her eyes came to rest on Double-D's exposed head. She reached down and ruffled her fingers through his hair.

"Soft. Why does he keep it covered up all the time?"

He shrugged before brushing back the long wispy bangs, revealing the sleeping boy's forehead. An old scar was just barely noticeable along one side, leading up and disappearing into the hairline. "Me and Ed saw this one time. He kinda wigged-out on us so we joked around - called it gross and stuff. He's totally the type to freak out about things like that. That or the color. Who knows?"

His mother rolled her eyes and sat lightly on the arm of the couch nearest to him. "Boys and their scars. Still, if he's got a complex about it, it's best not to tease him." They sat in silence for a moment - him absently tracing the scar with the tip of his finger, her watching them.

Finally, Eddy broke the calm. "What did you give him?"

Mrs. Sullivan just laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

Monday morning rolled around with minimal drama. He had spent the majority of Sunday somewhat doped-up on the Sullivan's couch, remote in his slack hand, listening intermediately between the History Channel and Eddy's mother's light conversation without fully processing either. She hadn't seemed to mind the audience as she went about her cleaning. Or, if she had, she hadn't mentioned it (and most importantly, hadn't brought up his conspicuously missing parents), so Eddward was inclined to believe that she had spoken to her son before shooing him out of the house and over to Ed's. He cared for Eddy a lot, but even he hadn't looked forward to the prospect of being pestered by the bored teenager all day.

Seven-thirty AM on Monday morning found him rubbing bleary eyes as Eddy practically sprinted out the front door, backpack over one shoulder. He squinted at the flashing neon of the TV's clock before the door flew back open. Eddy appeared winded. "Oh, you're up. Ah," he stammered, shoving a hand through comically messy brown hair, "Mom and Dad are at work. I think Mom called you in. I'm like,  _really_  gonna be late, so just... don't blow the house up, and I'll be back as soon as school's out."

Eddward nodded dazedly. This must have been what Eddy was waiting for, as the door swung shut again and the room was again void of all other occupants.

_Blow the house up? Eddy, your home isn't a science lab and I'm not stupid..._

It did feel strange not going to school, however.

Eddy's living room was smaller than the family room, but no less welcoming. The couch and love-seat were creme with a floral pattern. They, at one time, had probably been part of a Martha Stewart home collection. There were matching purple suede pillows and a deep plum-colored throw, and it would have been akin to his own family's living room if not for the flat screen affixed above the fireplace. It was functional and lived-in, and it was that trait that most separated it from the Blake's.

Against one of the walls was a bookcase that looked promising. He spent several minutes flexing his toes and calves to return feeling to them before ambling over and settling himself on the carpet at its base. The bookcase housed the most varied assortment of books he'd ever seen; there were a few cookbooks, a good many car magazines and crime novels, Shakespeare, history, half the Encyclopedia Britannica, and about eight different versions of the dictionary. A National Geographic from 1985 caught his eye for the striking portrait of the Afghan Girl that he had often seen but never read about. Peach Creek's library wasn't reliable for anything other than romance novels or fashion magazines - neither of which he had any interest in.

He settled in with his back against the bookshelf, magazine propped up against his legs so that he could turn its pages with his good arm. The outside world disappeared and he immersed himself in the pursuit of knowledge.

Some time not too long after he had started he was distracted by the rather ferocious growling of his stomach. Careful to memorize the page number, he tucked the magazine back into its place in the bookshelf and stood, lunging to grab the wooden frame when his legs swayed like jelly beneath him. He glanced at the clock.

_Three hours?_   _That couldn't be right._

After all, he had only gotten through... Nearly two-hundred pages of fine print. That in mind, it wasn't any surprise that he was feeling hungry.

The Sullivan family kitchen was right off of the living room. Everything in it (save for the appliances and oak cupboards) was painted a bright lime green that was as comforting as it was blinding. A large red fruit bowl stood sentinel in the center of the island. It contained one apple and two oranges, and he could imagine that both sets would remain until Mrs. Sullivan either ate them or threw them out. He couldn't see either of the Sullivan males eating anything healthy.

A note sat on the counter in neat cursive stating that Eddy's father would be home early and that he was more than welcome to help himself to anything in the kitchen. To make himself at home. There was even a "=]" smiley face doodled at the bottom, reminiscent of the last note he himself had written to this woman.

_She's amazing. Just amazing._ If the prospect of it hadn't seemed so childish, he would have pocketed the note.

Shaking his head, he chastised himself for becoming overly sentimental.

He wandered over to the fridge (a stainless steel monstrosity with four doors and half a dozen buttons above the overly complicated ice dispenser) and contemplated its contents. _Salad or macaroni? Hotdog or leftovers?_  It was almost an out-of-body experience to have so many different choices after his own fridge being empty for over a week. He settled on a small Tupperware container of some sort of pasta, and shut the fridge door.

"I think that's old."

Eddward jumped as Mr. Sullivan seemed to come out of nowhere.

The man didn't seem to notice his surprise, and scratched at his stubbly chin with contentedly squinted eyes. "Maybe. When  _did_  we have pasta? Uh... Either way, it wasn't the best to begin with. Don't tell the wife I said that, though..."

He stepped out of the way as the older man opened the fridge again, dragging out a package of bloody beef. Even wrapped in styrofoam and saran-wrap, the meat made a wet squelching sound on contact with the kitchen counter. A brick of cheese, head of lettuce, and several condiments joined it as Eddy's father tore open the packaging. Cheeseburgers, apparently.

Eddward swallowed compulsively, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He remembered vividly the last conversation he had with his own father; the man had been asking after his grades while heating up a cold cup of coffee in the microwave. In many ways, he hadn't been concerned with his aptitude, or even his feelings about school. Father only wanted the best for the family name.

"So." Mr. Sullivan slapped a few formed patties in a pan and turned to lean back against the counter, eyes warm and more than a little curious. "How's that nitrogen thing coming along?"

"Nitrogen...? Oh," he hummed, drawing imaginary circles on the tabletop. "I uh, I haven't had the opportunity to request the materials yet from school, what with the broken arm and all. The chemistry teacher is required to sign off on the lab hours and the rubbing alcohol, too. Um, procedure and all. It seems sort of excessive, though, since it is found in most bathroom cabinets." He realized that he was rambling and immediately shut himself up. The other Eds may not have terribly minded his loose jaw, but as Father used to berate him after dinner parties he had unintentionally ruined, children were to be seen and not heard. Already he regretted not being brief.

Surprisingly (or perhaps not so much, given who his sons were), Eddy's dad didn't seem to mind. "Huh. Kinda always figured you were the  _Mad Scientist_  type. You know, running experiments in your basement and stuff. Though I guess you couldn't get the credit for it if you couldn't prove you made it, now could ya'?" He chuckled, shaking his head and flipping the patties on the burner. The topsides came away mostly pink-free.

Eddward felt his lips twitch into a smile. Small as it was, the knowledge of it made his face feel warmer. "Eddy says the same thing. The mad scientist bit, at least."

Mr. Sullivan stood silent and observed him for a moment. There was a calculating, interested look on his face that arched his eyebrow and pulled his soft smile off-center. His son had perfected the same look, often shooting one at Eddward when he was doing something particularly nerdy or random. Eddward had always equated it as a " _what am I going to do with you?_ " Coming from his father, however, Eddward felt scrutinized and bare.

His hands flitted to his hat, tugging the soft material down a bit more.

Then the look passed to something more like a smirk, and somehow he suspected that even the hat couldn't hide whatever Eddy's father thought he saw in him.

"You and Eddy-boy, you've known each other for a long time now, yeah?" Nod.  _What does that have to do with anything?_  "And that Ed, too. Good friends. How come he's not over here every night, too?"

_Ed has a family to go back to. Ed isn't surviving off of your hospitality. Ed... isn't a freeloader._

A crash came from the front room, though, saving him from answering. Several rather colorful swears followed, and Eddy froze when he entered the kitchen to find his father staring at him. "Uh..."

"I didn't hear anything."

Eddy shot his dad a cheeky grin, before latching onto Eddward's good arm. Eddward followed obediently as he was tugged downstairs to the pulled-out couch, where he was deposited and quickly abandoned. He was only left confused for a few moments though, before Eddy returned. Loaded in his arms was a tangle of wires and plastic controllers, which he promptly dropped in a pile before the TV.

Everything from the day of the accident was a bit blurry in reflection, but he could have sworn there were other plans involved. Knowing Eddy, probably something involving gratuitous amounts of violence and testosterone. "Eddy," he called softly, half out of fear of distracting the other teen from his mission of untangling wires. "I thought you had plans to visit the arcade...?"

" _We_  had plans," Eddy corrected, warbled slightly through the cords strung between his teeth, "and I was gonna drag you along, broken arm or not. But you can't play arcade games with one arm, and  _I_  am not going to be the loser with a cripple following me around all day, so..." He leaned back on his heels and grinned in success as he got the Wii console hooked up to the TV. Several of the cords were still hopelessly tangled in a knot inches from the base, but he proved as he sat down beside Eddward that they still stretched the required distance. "We'll tag-team some zombies. Here, you can be my nunchuk. Only need one hand for  _that_."

_Because, of course, my desire to play has no bearings on whether I_ _**will** _ _..._

Still, it was sort of sweet, in a way. Sweet for Eddy, at least. He dutifully swung the plastic controller about in a haphazard fashion and amputated a few nearby undead.

* * *

"So then get this, he says somethin' like, ' _because donuts don't wear alligator shoes_.'  _Damn_ , that movie was ridiculous."

"But Eddy, what about the dynamite? Why didn't anything explode?"

Sometimes (meaning most of the time) Eddy wanted to shake the giant oaf until his circuits connected in his brain. Somehow though, he always figured it'd be more like shaking a peanut in a coffee can.

"Black Dynamite was his  _name_ , dumbass." He paused to gulp down the last dregs of his energy drink, which had been saved from lunchtime, then tossed it to Ed who flattened it against his hard skull. "Definitely could've used more explosions, though."

The two boys were mid-route heading home from school, the third trailing behind them like a limp puppet on a string. Eddy noticed the exhausted expression, wobbly knees, and arm that was  _only_  being held up by the pull of the sling. Noticed, but didn't say anything. They were teenagers but still men, and if the shortest of the trio wasn't going to start whining about the long first day back, he certainly wasn't going to instigate it.

"Given the already low-budget nature of the film, I would say the action sequences far surpassed what should have been your expectations, friends. The logic sequence, however... How do they honestly expect the audience to follow such insanity?"

_How typical. Nitpick the logic..._

Eddy sighed, throwing out a hand palm-up for emphasis. "Insanity was the whole point. It's supposed to be  _funny_. You just didn't get it, admit it."

"You say humor, I say poorly thought-out plot structure."

Ed's house came into view. Sarah, Ed's little sister, was sitting out front with another girl around her age with short dark hair. Both girl's hands immediately went behind backs or equally out of sight behind legs when they spotted the boys coming up the street. Ed waved cheerfully at them with his entire arm.

The big lug ambled off toward the girls, leaving Double-D and him to continue on alone.

Double-D was still frowning. Sometimes the guy could be such a tightass.

"It's a thing of beauty when foreshadowing is taken into proper account. The climax hitting all the more hard when you can think back to all the clues they provided - ones you never assumed were  _meant_  to be clues - and think, 'why didn't I know that was coming?' Otherwise..." The teen glanced out across the misty lawns towards his own home, where an unfamiliar black SUV was parked in the driveway. "The plot is predictable and you are left unsatisfied."

They walked up to the end of the drive and the front car doors opened. Two men in near-identical black suits stepped out, polished black shoes making little noise on the stamped concrete. The driver slipped on a pair of opaque sunglasses that were unneeded in the overcast afternoon weather. Without saying a word to either of the boys gawking at them, the other man stepped back to open the door to the backseat, holding it open for the young woman behind it.

She was well-dressed and polished with her auburn hair pulled back into a twist. Her matching skirt suit was a deep plum color accented by functional black heels. Despite all this, and the two men escorting her, she nearly tripped over her own feet getting out of the car and her laugh was self-depreciating and genuine when she saw that the teenagers had witnessed it.

"Would either of you happen to be an Eddward Blake?" she asked gently, smiling a soft, crinkling smile that Eddy connected with a person who was about to give bad news. One of the suited men made an impatient gesture behind them.

Double-D cleared his throat a few times beside him, but took half a step back before replying. "Um...That's me..."

The woman smiled at him in a weak attempt to lighten the atmosphere and make him feel comfortable. It didn't seem to be working. She held out an identification badge for both boys to read. "My name is Lisa Harada. I work for the state. I understand that you were in an accident a few days ago?"

"It wasn't anything too terrible. Just stupid prepubescent boy activities..."

"I see," she said just as softly. "We've been trying to contact your parents over the weekend in regards to the incident, but couldn't get a hold of them. I'm afraid you're going to have to come with us until we can reach them, hun. It's not safe to leave you home alone for so long."

Eddy frowned. Double-D had been staying with him for a week, and nobody had cared then. What was so wrong with  _his_  house that these asswipes had to get all uppity about it? He almost said something to that effect, but the other male nodded and turned to him.

"It's okay, Eddy. I'm sure they just don't have my parents' new work number yet. I'll..." he licked his lips and looked away. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

The boy joined the woman in the back of the dark vehicle, followed by the two men. The doors shut. As the car was driving out of sight, a raindrop fell and landed on Eddy's cheek.

He looked up. A storm was brewing.


	7. Chapter 7

" _Mom_!"

The door flew open, banging against the wall. Eddy panted in the entryway for a moment to catch his breath, before flinging his backpack down and running into the kitchen. His dad stood at the counter, mouth hanging open and ham sandwich raised to his lips.

"Your mom's at work for another hour. What's up?"

Eddy slammed his palms down on the granite surface, shaking the plate slightly. "They took Double-D!"

The man set the sandwich back down before squinting and scratching lightly between his eyes. "Wait, wait...  _Who_ took your friend?"

"Some government goons and a lady from the state. Now c'mon!"

He grabbed his dad's arm and tugged for good measure. He made it two steps before his dad's bulk weight held him in place. Seeing that his dad was still looking confused - and they didn't have time to spend being confused - he tugged again, harder.

"Dad, seriously! These guys came in this big black car and the lady said he had to go with them. Can't you tell them that he can just stay here? Why did he have to leave?"

The man took the time to brush the crumbs from his shirt front, then slid the bar stool back under the edge of the island. Every movement, in Eddy's eyes, was much to slow for the urgency of the situation. His friend was being  _kidnapped_! How could the man possibly look so resigned and (now that he  _had_ to understand what Eddy was saying) not incredibly surprised by the news?

His dad placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which he was quick to shrug off. "Eddy... This is a matter between Eddward's parents and the state. There isn't really anything we can do, Son." Seeing the look of utter betrayal on his face, his dad amended his statement. "I'll call your mom and let her know. Maybe she'll know what to do. Just... Why don't you go play with that other friend of yours, Ed, while Mom and Dad figure this out, okay?"

Eddy didn't appreciate being shuffled off, but this was big. Over his head. He'd let his mom handle it; she could be every cliche about momma bears or lions put together. He waited outside the kitchen door until he heard his dad dialing before he finally left the house.

Ed's mom was in a blue and white dress when she answered the door. Smiling, she chattered on about this and that as she let him inside, but he only really heard enough to understand that his friend was holed up in his room. He didn't even feel bad about cutting her off mid-sentence to head to the basement.

Once he had barged in, however, he didn't feel like talking. He plopped himself down in the armchair amidst the comic books and soda cans and stared somewhat blankly at the television. Ed's room hadn't changed much over the years. At some point the boy's mother had went through it with several trash bags and disposed of the mold-covered rotten food and had hired someone to tear up the disgusting carpet, but it was still messy. There were still stacks of magazines atop the dresser, television, and piled up here and there along the cement floor. Clothes still hung off of every not-so-clean surface.

Double-D outright refused to enter anymore.

Eddy slouched down some in the chair. Now that he was sitting, he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his body felt hot, adrenaline still rushing through his extremities. He knew he should do something, tell Ed what had happened, at least... But Ed sat dumbly watching his shows and even if he  _hadn't_  been distracted, Eddy had never felt comfortable sharing anything deeply private with the other teen. They shared a name and over ten years of memories, but sometimes it felt like Double-D was the only one who actually  _listened_.

And he would still be around to listen. Eddy didn't care what the government said. Double-D was coming home.

* * *

"Would you like something to drink, Eddward?"

The rubber stops did little to muffle the sound of the steel chair legs dragging across cement floor. His interrogator sat down lightly across the table from him, breaking up the cacophony of children's themed posters and crayon drawings. It was supposed to be comforting.

He didn't  _feel_ comforted.

"No thank you, I'm fine," he replied softly. He was sure the desert of his mouth was only from nerves. "Ma'am, if you don't mind..."

She placed a manila folder and glass of water on the table between them. "You can call me Lisa. You see, Eddward, a few teachers at your school have been concerned about you. The last several papers they've sent home have returned back unsigned. You never eat during lunchtime at school, and today you show up with these injuries. It is... against the law... for a teacher to not report it if they think something is wrong."

He knew the laws, having read everything on the subject he could find, both in the public and school libraries. He understood that their careers could stand on the line had they not said anything. Still, he couldn't help but feel betrayed, and wanted to know just  _who_ had blabbed. He remained silent, though. It didn't matter.

"We tried following up with it, of course. Eddward, how long has it been since you've seen your parents?"

His blood felt like ice in his veins. Surely his face was pure white, but Lisa showed no indication that she noticed his distraught.

_Of course she wouldn't. She sees this everyday. Congratulations, you're a statistic._

He fought to keep his voice even as he lied through his teeth. "Three days, Ma'am. It's just, with their new jobs, our schedules conflict. We're still adapting."

"Uh-huh," she agreed, but he couldn't decide if she believed him or not. She wrote a few illegible scribbles on a sticky note. It was nothing like the neat print of his mother's. "And how are you getting by, during the transition? Being so busy, surely they don't have time to make dinner?"

"Right. Um..." He struggled to recall a sleepover a year before, where Eddy's mother had been gone for the night but left out more than enough money for a pizza. "Mother left me with money."

"How much, Hun?"

Mentally he tried to calculate the median price for eating out, verses how many days he supposedly would have been on his own. For some reason, his brain was blanking on the cost of pizza. Was ten dollars enough? Fifteen?

Lisa was already making notes. Floundering for this long, it probably didn't matter  _what_ he told her. "Twenty dollars. A friend and I ordered a pizza."

This seemed to interest her. "Oh? How do your parents feel about you having friends over when they're not home?"

"I was a guest in their home, actually."

Immediately he regretted the words. This was the government. They could (and  _would_ ) check in with the Sullivans, and from there it would be only too obvious that he had essentially been abandoned (the thought itself was enough of a sucker punch to the gut. He didn't want to think about the pitying looks he would get from Eddy's parents if they knew it as well). He wondered if on some level it was Freudian; even as a child he had always hated to be alone, and would spend long hours being bullied by the then-shorter other boy just to avoid being home alone.

She made several short notes, nodding slightly. "I remember sleepovers as a kid. Of course, we girls just sat around talking about boys and painting our nails. What'd you two do?"

He moved restless hands to the sides of the blue plastic seat. It's smoothness provided little to distract from the questioning. His lips felt chapped and parched. He reached for the water glass at the corner of the table. "We partook in a few movies. Only to a decent hour, of course. It wouldn't do to arrive at school on inadequate sleep."

"And your arm?"

On top of it all, she thought his parents responsible for his broken arm as well? Everything else was fair enough, leading questions aside, but to blame them for something they weren't even _around for_? Or maybe that was it. Would he not have gained the injury if under the proper parental care?

"It wasn't my parents' fault. I was only behaving childishly, and was the cause of my own accident."

Despite (or perhaps  _because_ ) of his calling her out on the unvoiced implication, she appeared rather taken aback for a moment, before her training kicked in. "I understand, Eddward," she spoke softly. Gently. "But I wasn't trying to accuse your parents of  _causing_ the injury, Dear. I know how dangerous skateboards are. My son has one himself and nearly kills himself twice a week. I was only commenting on how lucky it was that someone was with you to help you get to the hospital alright."

She slid the pen and notepad away from them, crossing her arms and leaning forward over the table. "Was this your first broken bone? When I was your age I had already broken my ankle from skiing and wrist from falling out of a tree. I felt that the wrist hurt the worst."

They had his medical records. There was no point in lying. "I um... managed somehow to crack my skull when I was quite young," he lifted his beanie slightly, just enough to show the leading edge of a light pink scar disappearing into his hairline. "Before we moved, my old school was fond of dodgeball..."

"Mmhm," she hummed, nodding interestedly as though she hadn't already read this in his file. She didn't ask for details. "Is that why you wear the hat? I doubt I would have noticed the scar if you hadn't pointed it out to me."

"N-No... That's not the reason." His rabbit-soft hair was blonde - nearly platinum - while both his parents' were black. Societal implications aside (he wasn't that naive and had already mastered his school's biology textbook), above all he disliked the reminder that he was so very different. He didn't want to go into detail with this woman that he didn't even know, but he had to tell her _something_. Normal kids didn't refuse to remove a hat without a decent enough reason. "It is predominantly a comfort item. I was a very shy child, and the habit has grown, I'm afraid."

She nodded. Then she asked several other simple questions, ranging from his hobbies to how he was doing in school. He, like any other teenager, was conditioned to always answer an adult's question, but was also feeling increasingly more uncomfortable with every passing minute. They both knew why he was being questioned. It was only a matter of time before she could no longer stall, trying to make him feel comfortable enough to answer her honestly.

When her last few questions were answered with barely-vocalized one-worded responses, she sighed heavily, tapping the forgotten folder a few times with short neat nails. "Okay, Eddward. I know you're a smart kid, so I'm not going to insult you by trying to ghost around the subject. We both know why we're here. I just want you to know that anything you say while in this room or in my presence will be kept in the strictest of confidence. I may have to tell someone if I believe you're in any danger, though. I just ask that you're honest with me. You can trust me, Hun. We're just trying to make sure that you're safe."

With it out there, he didn't feel any better.

"Is this the first time that you've been home alone for this long, Eddward?"

He didn't know how far their influence stretched, but he had called his parents' work years before, looking for them when he hadn't seen them for two days straight. Would CPS know about that? They had never been gone for this long before, though... "Only once before. There was a miscommunication between relatives and my grandparents were not sure of the day they were to be providing care."

Now he was lying to the government. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to care. These were still his parents, even if they  _were_ conspicuously absent. He still loved them, even if they...

"Have you ever been without food? Water?"

"Never."

"Okay. Eddward, have your parents ever hurt you in any way?"

The question wasn't surprising, but the amount of emotion it brought to the surface upon hearing it was. He felt himself gripping the sides of the chair ferociously and almost expected his fingers to sink through the plastic. What right did they have, asking him that? His parents would never hurt him. Mother was a very busy woman, sure, but she had always been so gentle. Father was cool and calm as a winter lake.

The man only rarely got angry enough to yell, and the last time it had happened Eddward had been too cowed by the experience to act up since. He had been pushing his father's temper with little things all afternoon, and when the man had exploded he had flung half a cupboard's worth of dishes at the young boy's head. Not a single plate had made contact, though.

When his throat unclogged enough to allow his response, it felt both too late and too forced. "No!  _My parents love me!_ "

Now Lisa looked concerned, hand reaching out slightly in a subconscious mothering urge, he assumed. His own fingers shook. "Eddward, dear..."

His eyes were burning, and he could feel the traitorous tears beading in the corners of his eyes. His parents had never hit him. At least they had never done  _that_. He wanted her to understand and believe him, but his own reactions were betraying him. And he wasn't even  _lying_ this time. A few tears fell, and he brushed them away frustratedly. "My parents have never hurt me. I don't know why I'm... I'm sorry. Do you have any tissue?"

She rose from her chair for a moment, and walked out of view. Within moments she had returned, a full box of tissue paper in her hand. He accepted it gratefully.

A beep from her belt sounded into the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry, Eddward. It seems I'm being called away for a moment. Will you be alright here for a few minutes while I find out what's going on?"

He nodded, too embarrassed to look at her. The room was painfully silent once she left.

* * *

The young man at the desk tried to usher his mother to lower her voice again, but he quickly filled in the void with his own complaints. For five minutes they had been standing there, and they still had just as little knowledge of what happened to his best friend.

"I understand that you're just doing your job," his mother sighed, leaning heavily over the counter, "but so am I. Eddward has been under my care for the last two weeks. I'm responsible for knowing where he is at all times."

"Two weeks, did you say?"

Both mother and son looked up at the new voice. The lady from outside Double-D's house stood just inside the lobby door, hand resting on the pager on her hip.

His mom turned from the frazzled secretary, gripping the strap of her purse in both hands. "Yes... He's been eating dinner and sleeping over at our house everyday for the past two weeks. Have you contacted..." She seemed to cut herself off, glancing down at him nervously. "My son was very distraught since you came to pick him up. Is there any way he could go see his friend while we talk?"

"I'm not a little kid," he grumbled, annoyed at being shuffled off, but ultimately didn't argue when the social worker pointed him towards the door she had just come from. Something big was going down. He'd let his mother handle all the boring stuff while he made sure they weren't secretly recruiting Double-D into the CIA or something.

He glanced in the narrow window of every door he passed, noting several empty rooms with childish posters and round tables that were lower to the ground. Obviously they were unequipped to deal with situations involving teenagers. He could only imagine the affronted look that would've been on Double-D's face when being guided to sit and be comfortable in such a kid-friendly environment.

The second-to-last door window opened up to a room much like all the others, save for the fact that this one was occupied. Double-D sat leaning over the table slightly, a box of tissues before him and his face resting in his hands. The shorter boy looked up when he entered. His eyes and nose were slightly red, like he had been crying.

Eddy sat down next to him silently, staring without reading the motivational posters across the room from them. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the other teen cry. "You okay?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Double-D nod. That was good. He was no good with emotional things.

What he  _wanted_  to do was shake the boy. Demand that he tell him what was going on, why the government came and took him to this place. He wanted to know why the lady in the lobby had been so surprised at the admittance of two weeks, and where his parents had  _been_ all this time.

"Mom's going to take care of everything," he told the other instead, not sure if he was trying to comfort his friend or himself. "It'll... It's gonna' be okay."


	8. Chapter 8

Eddy wasn’t sure what his mother said to the state agent, but some great time later there was a knock on the door, and his mom peeked into the room.  Her expression was tight and the rims of her eyes were pink, but her smile was hopeful.  
  
"You boys doing alright in here?"  
  
She opened the door the rest of the way. He noticed she was still in her scrubs, and might've felt more guilty hauling her right back out the door when she had come home if the situation hadn't been what it was.   
  
Double-D beside him cleared his throat thickly. "Yes. Thank you..." He scratched lightly against the painted wood of the table.  
  
"Good. Let's get you both home. We've been here long enough."  
  
He met his mother’s eyes. She was smiling still, but the corners of her mouth seemed a little tighter, and she was watching Double-D. The other boy continued picking at the table as though he hadn’t heard her, but nodded to show he was paying attention.  
  
Like ducklings, they followed Mrs. Sullivan out of the building and to the car. The ride back to his house was quiet, his mother worrying at the thread along the leather steering wheel as she drove. She never turned on the radio, and neither boy asked her to.   
  
Upon arriving home, his dad practically threw open the door as they got to the front step. The man was still wearing the same clothes from earlier instead of sweatpants, and his shirt was (mostly) clear of condiment sauces. His mother ushered them all indoors, away from the prying eyes of busy-body neighbors, and asked him in clipped tones if he could get a bed set up in his room. He looked between his parents, noting the tight smile and nodded, leading a silent Double-D up towards his room. There was no point in getting any bedding out. Usually the pair crashed in a pile on the couch downstairs or, if they were playing video games before bedtime, Eddy’s bed was wide enough to fit two comfortably. Even if it hadn’t been, they had known each other long enough to belay any awkwardness sharing a bed could typically cause.   
  
There was a mountain forming atop his already full laundry basket, so when he dug into his dresser for sleepwear he was unsurprised to find only a few t-shirts and a pair of loose basketball shorts. He contemplated the bottoms - Double-D was a bit of a prude and probably wouldn’t feel as comfortable only in boxer shorts like he would be, but the drawstring was also stubbornly knotted towards the end of its tether. It was likely they wouldn’t stay up on the smaller frame.  
  
“Um...” Eddy jerked and looked up at his friend, realizing he had been holding the shorts up and staring like an idiot. Double-D gave him a small smile, but his eyes were sad. “I’ll be fine with just one of your shirts, Eddy. They’ll likely cover anything important, anyway. And...” the shorter teen looked away, biting his lip. “It’s just you. I...” _Trust you?_ “Never mind. I’ll be right back.”  
  
Eddy handed him the shirt and watched the other male leave the room to go change, before shucking his own clothes. Somehow they felt stiff, like the day had been much longer than its fourteen hours. He tossed them towards the laundry basket, adding to the pile which teetered before settling back against the wall.  
  
Double-D returned moments later, and Eddy took his place in the restroom to brush his teeth before bed. He wondered for a moment if he should have offered the other teen a spare. _Nah_ , he eventually decided. Double-D was always prepared and kept an extra in his backpack, which he noticed was laying half unzipped beside the shower.   
  
The lights were turned off when he got back to his room, save for the flickering glow of the television set, volume down low. It was only nearing eight o’clock, but without the usual sixty-watts the window blinds against the wall looked black with the night pouring in. Only the floor in front of the TV was illuminated, the rest of the room tucked into shadows in varying shades of gray-scale.  
  
Just barely visible was a distinctive form on the bed, blanket pulled up and facing away from the door.   
  
Eddy paused in the doorway. It was still early, and it wasn’t the cool thing to fall asleep practically moments after walking through the door. Yet... He thought of Eddward’s tired blue-green eyes from earlier (when the other teen had been determinedly avoiding his own). He couldn’t blame the guy for feeling wiped.   
  
The bed creaked when he sat down, and he almost winced before remembering that it was _his bed, dammit_.  
  
“So...” For one inexplicable moment, he had no words. It happened to other people, but _definitely_ not him. He hadn’t pushed the issue in front of his parents earlier because the other boy had looked worn-out and depressed since leaving the agency, and he didn’t want his parents to yell at him for being rude. Then, when they were alone, the Sock-head had continued to look lonely and pathetic...   
  
But he was over it. Whether or not Double-D’s sadness was pulling on his nonexistent heartstrings, he wanted to know what was going on, and no one else was going to tell him.  
  
“What was that earlier, Sock-head? Why’d they haul you off?”  
  
He easily _could_ have started with the big guns. Double-D’s parents were definitely out of the picture for some reason, be he obviously couldn’t just say it outright. He had some tact. And this was his best friend, after all.  
  
At first he didn’t think Double-D was going to respond, but then the blonde boy heaved a sigh, curling up tighter than before. “My parents are gone, Eddy.”  
  
He already knew that. “Yeah, I get that. You’ve been mooching here, haven’t you? Where’d they _go_?”  
  
“I don’t know...”  
  
“ _Why’d_ they go?” He thought of his own parents, and how it wasn’t possible that there could be anything that could make his mother leave him alone for weeks on end. “What kind of parents just up and abandon their kid like that?”  
  
“The illegal kind, evidently.”  
  
Double-D’s voice wasn’t particularly loud or sharp, and Eddy couldn’t see his face in the feeble glow of the television, but he could see how long fingers clenched in the bed sheets. Shoulders were trembling.  His own hand was reaching before he realized what he was doing, and only just managed to pat that shoulder firmly instead of petting the soft head.   
  
“I-uh... I’m gonna go downstairs for a bit. Get some grub, you know.”  
  
The other boy said nothing, and for that Eddy was grateful. There wasn’t a lot he could say to the other teen, anyway, and he felt useless as he quietly shut the door and went downstairs to spend time with his family that loved him.

 

* * *

  
  
The next week passed by in a blur of calls between friends and school officials, and frequent visits from Lisa. She seemed concerned that he wasn’t in hysterics about his predicament, as though tears would help his situation any. According to her, he was shutting himself off from the grieving process.  
  
He couldn’t see what he was supposed to be grieving.  
  
Whenever she decided to “drop by” for a friendly visit, Eddy’s father (who had taken the week off work to handle a “family emergency”) would suddenly remember some obscure tool that he needed to fetch in the middle of his TV program, and the two would sit down in the cozy living room to talk about his feelings. By Thursday, he was quick to inform her that he was more concerned with how his lack of attendance would affect his grades than what would happen to him now. He was surprised at himself. Normally he would never be so quick to snap at an adult, but he was starting to feel weary of the whole situation.  
  
It wasn’t right for the Sullivans to have to put everything aside to take him in during this time. It wasn’t right that Eddy had to share his room with him - even if they were best friends, surely the other male wanted some alone time every once in a while, right? Their friendship was already becoming strained, arguments popping up with increasing frequency over the most insignificant of things.  
  
He couldn’t expect them to keep him, but he wanted it so bad...  
  
Then on Friday afternoon, everything came to a head.  
  
“There’s no way you just won!” Eddy snapped, fingers tightening around the hard plastic of the video game controller. “You must have cheated!”  
  
“Cheat? How does one _cheat_ at a fighting game, Eddy? All I am doing is pressing the buttons in a haphazard fashion with my one fully functioning arm, as you refused to _tell me how to do it the right way_. And you weren’t even watching your television screen! I understand that our situation is an awkward one, but as my friend I don’t appreciate your pity.”  
  
Eddy tossed the controller to the side, it bouncing harmlessly on the carpet as the other teen pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t pity you, you idiot! Whatever, you just got lucky... This is boring. Let’s go watch TV or something.”  
  
Eddward let himself follow Eddy downstairs to the living room, trying to convince his heart to slow its palpitations. The other teen had probably had a long, boring day at school. He was tired. Eddy was easily agitated when he was tired, so he decided not to take Eddy’s accusation to heart.   
  
He didn’t _want_ to fight with Eddy. He just wasn’t sure how _not to_.  
  
So it wasn’t a surprise when an hour later, Eddy was starting in on him for his preferred choice in television programming.   
  
“Documentaries are stupid. I’m not going to sit here in my own house watching some crap about an old dead guy who invented something people don’t even use.”  
  
Eddward reached across them for the remote, which Eddy had yanked out of his hands. “They are educational! Don’t complain when you handed me the remote in the first place!” He reached over more, until Eddy grunted and shoved him off the couch.   
  
“Yeah, well it’s my TV, and I’m not watching any of your crap.”  
  
Feeling hurt and not in the mood to fight anymore, Eddward stomped up the stairs towards the other boy’s room. Eddy followed hot on his heels, face turning red.  
  
“Where’re you going?”  
  
“Away from _you_!” Eddward reached to open the door, but was stopped by the larger hand that slammed against the wood beside him, holding it shut. “Hey!”  
  
Eddy wasn’t looking at him, but was was uncomfortably close, voice noticeably strained. “Double-D, look, let’s just... Come back downstairs and—”  
  
Feeling crowded and bullied, Eddward shoved Eddy out of his personal space. “Get away from me, you jerk!”  
  
But the push sent Eddy back into the hallway wall, knocking several picture frames to the ground and shattering them. Mr. Sullivan - who had obviously heard the fight and intended to put a stop to it - came barreling around the corner at the base of the stairs at the sound of breaking glass.  
  
 _“The hell’s going on here?”_  
  
Both boys leapt apart. The large man thundered up the stairs, slowing as he reached the top to avoid stepping on the shards of glass littering the floor. Eddy leaned back against the wall across the hall again, looking equal parts chastised and frustrated, as well as some slant in his frown that from Eddward’s point of view might have been disappointment. It took all of Eddward’s remaining energy to keep his legs from buckling.  
  
Mr. Sullivan checked first to make sure neither of them were injured or had stepped on any of the broken glass before setting them to cleaning their mess. The other boy made all the typical teenage grunts and eyerolls during the process. Eddward stayed silent.  
  
Only once everything was clean and no one was in risk of getting glass in their feet did the older man steer the boys into separate rooms to go _cool down_. The missus would be home within the next half-hour or so, he said, and they could talk about whatever was going on then; he may have been the man of the house, but she definitely seemed to run the joint.   
  
Eddy’s older brother’s room had been refurbished into a guest room a few years back, when he had made it clear that eclectic though his lifestyle may be, he was sticking with it and not moving back home. It had been painted over in a shade of pastel blue that reminded Eddward of nurseries and baby clothing, with a newer pine dresser and desk, and darker blue bedspread. There were other amenities added here and there - smiling family pictures on the walls, a small television set, and an out of place-looking green chair set off in a corner - but under the circumstances he didn’t feel comfortable sitting on the bed to wait, much less snoop through the room. Not that he would have otherwise.  
  
He felt awful for breaking the picture frames in the hallway. He knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, and expected the frames could be replaced on the cheap, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that they had gotten so unruly and boorish that they had become moderately destructive.   
  
Their own son they would be able to understand. Eddy had genetics and familial relationships on his side. Eddward on the other hand was a veritable outsider, a stranger to their home and customs and punishment systems.  
  
He wouldn’t blame them for wanting to get rid of him.  
  
About thirty minutes after the accident, he could hear the sound of the front door opening, followed by the comparative silence of hushed whispers. Soon after came soft footsteps up the stairs, and Mrs. Sullivan’s soft voice asking Eddy what had happened before the door muffled whatever response he would have given. When the door in the hallway opened again nearly ten minutes afterwards, Eddward froze. He wasn’t ready. What could he say in his defence? _Could he even defend himself?_  
  
“Eddward, dear, can I come in for a moment?”  
  
He stood up sharply and smoothed a hand across the comforter. “U-um, yes ma’am.”  
  
She was still in her scrubs of course, and her bangs were mussed like she had recently ran her hands through them. This was no doubt not a situation she would have appreciated upon coming home after a long work day.  
  
“So I guess you and Eddy had a bit of a disagreement?” She asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. He turned to face her.  
  
He flinched slightly, remembering the damage they had inadvertently caused. “I apologize for the damage, Mrs. Sullivan. It’s all my fault... He just kept following me and he wouldn’t stop... I should not have pushed him, however, and I know that. ‘Violence is not the answer,’ I always say. I’m such a hypocrite...” He squeezed his eyes shut, fisting the material of his jeans.  
  
She was going to kick him out. Send him to an orphanage or a foster home, surely. No one would want a violent ruffian living in their home. She had Eddy to raise, after all.  
  
But to his immense surprise, she laughed, soft and not scornful in the least. “You’re a teenager, dear. And a teenage boy, at that. I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a little push-and-shove every once in a while.” Her eyes seemed to linger on a photograph on the desk opposite, one of Eddy and his brother. “But being around each other so much isn’t healthy for either of you at this point. We can’t handle any more fights. This just isn’t working...”  
  
Eddward sat stunned and silent. He had expected... But to hear it was like a punch to the gut, his heart dunked in ice water. Where would the state send him now? His only relatives were grandparents living on the East Coast, thousands of miles away. They were far too elderly to be saddled with another teenager to provide for. But if not them, would he be forced into the Foster System?  
  
Would he ever see his friends again?  
  
“U-um...” He pressed his fingers into his knuckles, hard. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to cry and beg and plead for them to reconsider. He knew, though, that he had already inconvenienced their family enough. He blinked past the sudden blurring of his vision. “O-oh. I understand... Do... Do you know what they will do with me now?”  
  
“Do with you? What do you mean, Eddward?”  
  
“I don’t... I don’t have any relatives in-state. When you send me back—”  
  
Suddenly she looked alarmed for some reason, turning towards him and placing her hand on his knee. “Send you back? Eddward, why would you think that we would send you back there? We love having you, Hun.”  
  
He felt strictly uncomfortable with her touching him, even in such an innocent and caring way, but he was too shocked to remove it. “But you said...”  
  
“No! No... We’re not sending you back, dear... It’s only the rooming situation that isn’t working. Oh, Eddward...” She reached forward and grasped his hands in hers. Her eyes were watery and his were watering in response. “We were thinking it might be a good idea to have you stay here for now. We’re not using this room anymore, and I’m sure you both would like some privacy every once in a while, right? I didn’t mean to make you think we didn’t want you here...”  
  
He wanted to thank her, maybe hug her or at least squeeze the hand holding his, but everything outside himself felt a mile away, distanced by his pounding heart and intense relief. He couldn’t even force himself to meet her eyes as he nodded quietly, biting his lip.  
  
“Eddward,” she started quietly, and when he looked up her eyebrows were furrowed and uneasy. “I spoke with the social worker a bit. I know you’ve been meeting with her every few days?” A nod, numbly. “She told me that she’s... concerned. Are you not talking with her anymore? She only wants to help, you know. We all do.”  
  
It hurt, if only slightly, that they were talking about him behind his back. He understood. Realistically he was aware that Lisa wasn’t a doctor and thus wasn’t confined to the same doctor-patient confidentiality laws, and she probably thought Mrs. Sullivan would be a better route to get information from since he knew her better. That realization didn’t lessen the sting by much, however.  
  
“So I want to be honest with you, because you deserve to know what’s going on. She asked me to try to talk to you a bit about your parents... She’s worried that maybe you aren’t completely happy at home, or that it’s not a healthy place for you to be right now.”  
  
He felt a pang of irrational anger and frustration towards the wonderful woman before him, Lisa, his parents... His situation wasn’t a new one, only a changed one, in that he had another place to stay. This may have been the _longest_ they had ever been away, but it certainly wasn’t the _first_ time his needs had been overlooked. Why were they only reacting now that he was finally happy?  
  
“I... am also worried. I know that it probably feels like too little too late, but we really do care about you. You’re a great kid. If you want to talk about it, I can promise that if I don’t think Lisa needs to hear about it, anything you say can stay between you and me, okay, Eddward?”  
  
She smiled weakly at him and he tried to smile back, but the ability to pull his facial muscles up past a grimace was lost behind the storm of hurt and anger sweeping low in his system. It _did_ feel too late. Too late and now he felt too pressured — though it was of no fault of his own, he hadn’t been able to have heart-to-hearts with his own mother in years. He had managed just fine on his own.  
  
Noticing his obvious discomfort, she squeezed his hands lightly before releasing them. “Alright, Eddward. If you ever want to talk — about anything — you can always come to either of us. _Any_ of us.” She patted his knee, then walked to the door. “I’ll let you go ahead and read or watch some TV until dinner. Feel free to browse around. We cleaned it out as best we could, but there are probably some interesting surprises hiding here and there still. Kids, yeesh. Let us know if you need anything.” She shut the door softly behind herself, and then all was silent.


	9. Chapter 9 (no, I am not dead yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My account pulls a Sherlock and comes back from the dead! I've moved house four times and switched schools and let this get away from me, but I've got the rest of the plot for this nailed out and I should be able to update about once a month from now on.

When Eddy’s mother knocked on his bedroom door, half an hour after he had shut himself away inside, he wished she would have been later. There could have been traffic on the short highway between their home and the hospital, or maybe a group of rowdy patients could have come in right at the end of her shift. He loved his mom. He _didn't_ love the raise eyebrows and knowing glint in her eyes.

“So, want to tell me what happened today?” It was a trap, obviously. She knew something happened, so Dad had already told her. She came to sit on the edge of his bed.

He backed up against the wall, crossing his arms and stared at the peeling corner of the movie poster on the opposite wall. “No.” It was for an action movie, but he couldn't remember which one and he couldn't drag his eyes away from the rolling corner. “Double-D just got pissy and pushed me into the picture frames.”

“Mmhm. Why was he upset, then?”

“I don’t know, he’s always such a drama queen.” That wasn't true. Since he’d moved in, Double-D had done practically everything he’d asked without question. It was starting to piss him off.

A lot of things about Double-D were starting to piss him off.

His mom turned sideways, tucking her feet criss-cross underneath her, leaning back on a hand to better see him. “And what were you guys doing before Eddward started being such a drama queen?”

“We had a fight about a TV show. He threw a fit because I didn't want to watch his stupid documentary. I just wanted to get him to calm down and watch something else and he pushed me.”

“Really?” Her eyes commanded his and her frown was evident. “Because your dad was in the living room, and from the sound of it you've been trying to pick a fight with Eddward all afternoon. It sounds to me like maybe he’s not the one being a drama queen. What’s really going on here, Eddy?”

Well, shit. Of course she knew the whole story. Eddy didn't want to think about what was really going on. It wasn't Double-D’s fault that the look of melancholy on his unaware face riled Eddy up so bad.

Eddy shrugged one shoulder and licked his lips. “It’s just… He’s pissing me off. He’s just… always there, and it’s weird.”

His mom’s eyebrows crinkled in the center, and she sounded hesitant when she said, “I know you've been sort of an only child for a while now, with your brother gone. Eddward’s in a hard situation, though, and there’s really nowhere else for him to go. I know it can be hard sharing space so suddenly, but you have to think about how he feels, Hun.”

“I don’t want to kick him out! It’s not… really that.” He knew he was contradicting himself, he just wasn't sure how else to explain it. “I just… feel bad. Like, I always knew that his parents weren't really there for him like how you and Dad are for me. I remember going to his house as a kid and there’d be these sticky notes everywhere because they weren't home all day, but like… I guess I never really realized how bad it must suck to not really have parents that care about you.

“We were fighting earlier because we were playing Street Fighter and he looked happy for once, and I got distracted, and I guess I kind of let him win.” Eddy looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. He could feel his mom’s eyes staring holes into his scalp. He picked at his sleeve idly. “I keep doing it. Saying stupid shit– sorry, things, to try to make him laugh, but I don’t mean to! He just looks so sad all the time when he doesn't think I’m looking.”

His mom’s mouth was slightly open, eyebrows to her hairline, but she was quick to recover. “That’s not a bad thing, Eddy. It’s really sweet of you to try to cheer up your–”

“I’m not sweet, though!” He interrupted, shoulders slumping. “As soon as I realized I was doing it, I accused him of cheating. I _know_ he wasn't. He doesn't even know how to play the game. It’s just… I felt so embarrassed and I didn't want him to know that I was letting him win, so I yelled at him and I couldn't even stop myself.”

And then when he realized that the old Eddy never would have sat through a documentary just to see Double-D smile, if Double-D knew what he was doing… It wasn't just that he wanted to cheer up his buddy, it felt different than that. Weirder. So he had royally fucked that momentary happiness up as well. Since he had closed himself in his bedroom, all he could think about were the tears in Double-D’s eyes when he had pushed him.

How he had _ran away_ from him and probably hated him now.

He was startled when his mom placed her hand on his knee, and quickly brushed away the alarming wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes. “You’re a teenage boy. I get that it’s not cool to be caring, but you and Eddward have been friends for a really long time, so it’s okay to want to cheer him up, alright? It’s normal to fight sometimes, too, but this is a bit excessive.” She chuckled, patting him on the knee. “Eddward’s probably freaking out by now, so I should probably go talk him down. You guys both need your space. What do you think about letting him have your brother’s old room while he’s here?” Eddy just nodded, nose feeling stuffy and afraid if he spoke his voice would break. His mother got up, heading to the door. “You should apologize to him. He’s a nice kid, he’ll forgive you.”

He nodded again and watched his mother leave. He knew Double-D would forgive him, he just wasn't sure if he could forgive himself.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The weekend was spent mostly avoiding each other. Double-D had wanted to forgive and forget, but Eddy had kept a full mouth during meals to avoid conversation, leaving immediately after the dish was emptied to Ed’s house. Double-D had tried not to feel betrayed at not being invited. He didn't really have any other friends, though, so when faced with an empty day in Eddy’s home, it hadn't taken long for him to slip a loose button-up over his cast and head to the school science lab. The instructor hadn't been around, but the man had given him a key at the beginning of the semester with the understanding that Eddward wasn't to do any potentially dangerous experiments without a faculty advisor’s supervision. He told himself that his liquid nitrogen substitute wasn't _really_ dangerous as long as he was careful, and most of the weekend had involved experimenting on whether various objects could shatter with cold, such as random notes from not very good friends.

Come Monday, most of his frustration with Eddy had burnt off with the cold, but he was still quick to sit in the center most seat of the front row in each class. Typically he compromised with his friends to all sit in the middle of the classroom, but if they already weren't talking… He saw Eddy pause at the doorway of their first shared class, and focused on writing the date at the top of his notes in his most perfect penmanship. By last period English, Eddy slid smoothly into his normal seat without saying a word.

His teacher did, though, stopping him on his way out the door at the end of the school day. “Mr. Blake, a moment if you would.”

Double-D watched the last of the students leave, Eddy among them, before approaching the desk at the front of the room. “Yes, Mrs. Baron?”

She leaned forward in her chair, both feet flat on the floor despite wearing a skirt, and looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted to know if you've given any more thought to skipping forward into Sophomore English. You've got about one-thirty percent in this class with extra credit. You know it only goes up to a four-point-oh, right?”

Eddy already was apparently fine with just ignoring him. Maybe it couldn't hurt to skip forward, be with people on a more comparable intelligence scale...

“I understand,” he said instead, knowing that even if he was frustrated with Eddy, he wouldn't be the one to break it off for good. Already he was thinking of how he’d apologize for pushing the other boy once he returned to Eddy’s home. He’d had enough time to wallow in self-pity. “School is an important time in a young person’s life to mingle with their cohort. I still don’t want to leave my friends, I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Baron cocked her head to the side, leaning a blazer-clad elbow on her desk. “You’ll forgive me for saying so, but you don’t seem to talk a whole lot with your classmates as you are now. Just Vargas and Sullivan, the scoundrels. But it didn't look like you guys were talking. Have a falling out?”

Not that it was any of her business, but, “Just a miscommunication, ma’am. And I don’t need a large group of friends, just a close one.”

“Fair enough, thought I’d try one last time.” She heaved out a sigh and a softer look came over her features. “That wasn't really what I stopped you for, though. I wanted to know how you were doing?”

“How I was doing… apparently very well if I've achieved above a perfect score?” He shifted from one foot to the other and adjusted his grip on his backpack strap. What did she want now?

“Eddward, you've been out for a while and have come back with your arm in a cast. Plus your living situation…”

Double-D froze and stared back at her with wide eyes and slack mouth, blood turning to ice in his veins. Living situation? How did she know...

“Any time there is a case involving a student and CPS, the school is informed. The students’ safety is a teacher’s biggest concern, and we have to be aware if there’s anything we should be on the lookout for,” she explained quickly, but the words were like molasses sticking in his brain. “Eddward, how did you hurt your arm?”

“It was an accident,” he mumbled on autopilot. School was his safe net, his last defense against the uncertainty that had taken over his life. Did _all_ his teachers know now? He mentally reviewed every interaction with a teacher that had taken place that day. Nothing stuck out at him, but now that he knew, would every word from their mouths drip of pity? Realizing that didn't quite explain it, he clarified, “I was dared to partake in Kevin’s skateboard. I fell.”

His teacher gave him a half-smile and shook her head slightly. “That seems a bit out of character for you, hm? “

“Not you, too,” he thought aloud, miserably. He had Eddy as a witness and still somehow all the adults in his life wanted to blame his parents for his broken wrist. He took a step back from the desk. “If that’s all, I've got to go home.”

Except he couldn't go home. His parents weren't home and suddenly everyone cared that he’d been taking care of himself for years. He spun around and practically sprinted out of the door before she could call him back in for more interrogation. Suddenly the idea of going back to Eddy’s perfect loving family and apologizing away the terrible way Eddy had been treating him seemed intolerable.

Eyes welling up with hot tears, Eddward ran to the only place he knew where no one would care that he was the kid whose parents abandoned him.

 

* * *

  
Eddy had been in the hallway talking to Ed and Rolf (about anything and everything that kept Double-D’s apparent ending of their friendship from his mind), when the shorter boy ran past. He only caught a glimpse of his face, but Edd’s eyes had looked dangerously shiny and his cheeks were red. Ed and Rolf were distracted with making some kind of farm animal noises.

It only took him a few minutes to find Double-D in the back corner of the school library. He was surrounded by empty aisles and crying with his head resting on his knees. From the wear-pattern around the bottom hem, Eddy could see that Edd was wearing one of his pairs of jeans, something he hadn't noticed while trying to ignore the way Edd was ignoring him all day. Maybe Double-D wasn't _that_ mad at him.

Eddy sat down next to the other boy quietly, bumping his shoulder ever so lightly. He relaxed with his legs stretched out before him and tilted his head up to the ceiling. White square tiles. He exhaled heavily.

After a few minutes, the tears calmed enough for Double-D to sigh wearily, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. “She knew,” he mumbled, as though Eddy was supposed to know what that meant. “They all knew. All day and no one said anything.”

Eddy wished he would have thought to grab the box of Kleenex off the library’s front counter on his way in. He tilted his head slightly, eyes skimming the titles of the books across the aisle to try not to notice the way tears still clung like diamonds to Double-D’s eyelashes. “I've got no idea what you’re talking about, Sockhead. What’d they know, huh?”

“CPS called the school, Eddy. All day my teachers have known that my parents essentially abandoned me, but only Mrs. Baron actually asked me about it. I almost wish she hadn't told me.“ Eddy looked down at him. He had his head turned to look at him, though it was still resting on his knees. “Now I have to come back tomorrow wondering what they’re thinking and seeing the pity in their eyes.” Double-D slowly uncurled his legs, stretching them out to lean back side-by-side with Eddy. A few tears dripped down, but he did nothing to stop them trail down his cheeks one at a time. “Everyone keeps asking about my arm, too, as if it were somehow my parents’ fault. They might not have always been… but they never…”

Eddy sighed and reached across Double-D’s shoulders, pulling the other boy to rest his head on his shoulder. Double-D went willingly and his hitching breaths eventually faded out into a few hiccups as his body rebelled the stress. Eddy ran his fingers through the strands of incredibly soft white-blonde hair that had fallen out of the beanie.

“Why’d they even adopt me if they didn't want me?”

Edd had practically whispered it, and even if he had wanted some kind of reply, Eddy didn't know what kind of one to give him. Before he could say anything, though, Double-D chuckled, scrubbing his face with both hands. “Ahhh, I’m such a mess. I must look quite a state. Oh my...”

He flashed a self-deprecating smile Eddy’s way, but Eddy didn't see a mess. The shorter boy’s cheeks were a soft pink and eyes were glistening, long strands of seldom-seen blonde hair falling around to frame his face.

If anything, Eddward Blake looked even prettier when he cried.

  
  


  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddy demanded his side of most of everything for this chapter, so I figured as long as it was coming easily, Eddy’s POV it would be.


End file.
